After the Fall
by Sasha Dixon
Summary: After the group loses the prison they struggle to find a new home for themselves, a place to start living again instead of simply surviving. New bonds are formed as well as new love found. Will they be able to hold onto it all after the fall? Takes place around season 5x11
1. Well Why Not

**A/N: This story has been swirling for a while so I decided to write it down. I am always hungry for Dasha tales (can you tell I ship them, lol). I do hope you enjoy and as always I look forward to your comments.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

 **Well, Why Not**

I'm sorry to interrupt  
It's just I'm constantly on the cusp of  
Trying to kiss you  
I don't know if you  
Feel the same as I do  
But we could be together  
If you wanted to  
Do I wanna know  
If this feeling flows both ways  
 _ **"Do I Wanna Know"**_  
 _ **Arctic Monkeys**_

- **oOo** -

 _"You go out into enemy territory with your comrades, set on your mission, and you know, just know, one of you isn't going to make it," Sasha had told Daryl in an animated fashion. They had just come back from a run and were sitting in the bunker, talking things out. "You steel your nerves and pray it's not you and head out anyway. It's not that things can go wrong. It's that they_ will _go wrong. They just have to. The world needs to let you know now is not the time to take a breath, you're not quite there yet."_

 _She had run her hand through her hair, which she had left untied, coiling up and out, making her look free and unrestrained. Not the serious Sasha he dealt with outside the prison but the one he could spend hours alone with in the bunker._

 _The light of the solar powered lantern had danced off her features. She had found the lantern while out on a run and decided to keep it. A lot of people on runs did that. It was their reward for risking their lives for the community. Their reward for living, for making it back._

 _Down in the bunker Daryl liked to imagine that they were in their bedroom in their home. In his fantasy life on long nights they would make love, Sasha whispering his name from her supple lips as he stroked her into bliss, her long limbs wrapped tightly around him. Everytime he had those thoughts he had to fight to not rake his eyes up and down her body, lustily eyeing her breasts, her stomach and thighs. He had often imagined peeling off her clothes and running his hands along her thighs and burying his face between her soft mounds._

 _In the small space of the stone room they would talk, decompress, get away from it all and sometimes would remain in a comfortable silence while she read thick books from the prison library and he read Carl's comics._

 _Sometimes they would just lay silently, side by side on the small mattress, one side of her body slightly over his on the narrow space. He liked those times best of all. He liked spending time with her._

 _"So many times I'm reminded of stories my dad would tell me and Ty about 'Nam and humping through the thick," she continued. "Everyday you get up and march to war. Every day you keep a keen eye out for the enemy. Everyday someone dies at the hand of the enemy. Every night you mourn and every morning you start the process all over again."_

* * *

They didn't speak on the ride back. Sasha sat in the back seat although only her and Daryl were in the car. Earlier she had been laying down, silently watching the tops of trees zip by through the window. Now he could see her through the rearview mirror, chewing on a fingernail and staring blankly at the scenery passing them by. Glenn, Michonne, Bob and Tyreese rode ahead of them in the truck. She was shook up he knew. She hated losing people on runs. It was a reminder that they hadn't yet learned to conquer the new threat in the world.

They had been so careful. Staking out the area, devising a plan to lure walkers away, waiting a few days to make sure the area was clear. It didn't matter. He wondered if any of it ever mattered.

As Daryl drove along the empty road towards the prison he knew they would end up together in the bunker. The Big Shot run had turned out to be a disaster, a costly one. When walkers started dropping from the ceiling, like ripe fruits from some terrible nightmare, it was game over. Everyone scattered. Dodging walkers, falling shelves, puddles of intestines. They ran out with barely anything. The place was too structurally unsound to risk clearing the walkers and giving it another try.

And Zach was dead. Sasha had really liked the kid. They both did. He was good, willing to learn, did what he was told, took care of walkers quickly and quietly, was a team player. He and Sasha had discussed taking Zach out on their scouting missions. And now he was gone. Just like that. Another person Daryl would have loved to get to know but will now struggle to remember in a few months.

As if reading his mind, Sasha reached forward and squeezed his shoulder, "who's gonna tell Beth?"

"I'll do it," Daryl said stoically, "Not sure how she'll take it but I'll do it."

Sasha nodded.

She kept her hand on Daryl's shoulder, the tips of her fingers on his neck. It was the warmth. She didn't want to let go of the warmth she felt on Daryl's neck, the sign of life. She wanted to feel that warmth all over her body, a reminder that she was still here, she was not dead yet.

She moved closer to the back of Daryl's seat and slid her hand down the front of his shirt, resting her palm against his chest, feeling the steamy heat of his body, closing her eyes, enjoying the comfort.

"We're okay," Daryl said to her as his skin pricked at the feel of her hand on him, her fingers softly stroking his chest. His breathing got shallow as he tried not to moan at the feather light touch of her fingers which were snaking further down his shirt and brushing against the delicate skin of his nipples.

She had been doing this for the past few months. Touching him. He didn't know what he was supposed to do in those situations so he did nothing. He had wondered if she knew his feelings for her, the massive crush he had developed over time that had become full blown adoration shortly after she had shown him her secret spot in the bunker.

He was trying to concentrate on driving, but as she got her hand further down, now rubbing just above his stomach, all he could think about was pulling the car over and pulling her clothes off.

He didn't know what the touching meant to her, probably nothing, just something to do amongst the living. It meant everything to him though. Alone on his perch he would remember her touches, the way they felt. He would recall how her eyes would become soft and her lips would form a slight smile. Then he would imagine what it would be like to kiss her, feel her full lips on his, taste her mouth. Would she laugh at him if he tried? At first he was certain she would, but now, he wasn't so sure.

The first few times she had touched him his body tensed so rigid his muscles got sore. The very first time was when they had called it a night on a scouting mission and camped out on top of the cab of a delivery truck. She had lain down, her head on his thigh, her arms wrapped around it. He was suppose to wake her for her shift after four hours but he had remained awake the entire eight hours, shifting every now and again as his leg fell asleep under her head. He held a steady hard-on from the first moment she ran her hand up and down his leg in her sleep and began to have fantasies of them naked together when she would periodically squeeze herself against his thigh, making her cleavage spill upwards out of her tank top and touch the fabric of his pants.

He had tortured himself all that night with thoughts of Sasha being his. He had been torturing himself more and more with those thoughts.

"Why don't you come sit up here with me? I'm startin' to feel like a damn chauffeur."

Sasha removed her hand from him and climbed into the passenger seat. As she sat down she caught Daryl staring, his eyes in sharp focus on her, telling her once again that he wanted her, maybe more than she wanted him. Something stopped him from doing anything though. She would touch him and he would tense but not move away. She learned enough about him on their many outings to know he would never make the first move. No matter the reality, Daryl's perception of himself was low, he didn't see himself deserving of much, especially love.

But Sasha knew he was a man she could fall in love with. It was unexpected, the slow affection she had developed for him. She found him incredibly sexy. He had a confidence and surety in his skills out in the open that she was drawn to. But other than that, he was shy, unsure, and sweet. He was also trustworthy and loyal. And frustrating. His fear of women, fear of intimacy drove her crazy, made her doubtful. She wasn't sure if she should just try to move on from him, give up on the idea of romance but she couldn't. He brought out a desire in her that she hadn't felt since long before the outbreak.

Since the dead began to rise she had been running, simply surviving. Until the prison she had never taken a break, never took the time to simply enjoy the fact that she was alive. A thinking being breathing fresh air. A woman with emotional and physical needs.

She had told herself that she would just have to be patient, but she was now wondering if patience was the right answer. Tomorrow was never guaranteed and she feared that there would come a time when it became too late and he would never know how special he was to her.

* * *

 _They had walked slowly back to the prison across the yard from the fences where they had been taking walkers down that had begun to gather in the fading sun. In the dark they had seen a faint light near the edge of the farm. Slowly, carefully, they walked up to it. Near the light, on the grass, a body rose. Naked and writhing, her breasts in her hands as she moaned low and gyrated on the man under her. The man's grunts came quiet and deep, her stifled cries long and drawn out._

 _Daryl had turned away immediately but Sasha stared, feeling her center come alive and contract. She unconsciously brought her hand up to her throat, rubbing it as the man sat up and began suckling at the breasts of the woman._

 _Sasha had wanted to watch the couple all night but was acutely aware of Daryl's eyes on her, watching her watch them make love. Watching her as she stared longingly at the writhing in the field, wishing it were her being touched, caressed, stroked. She had turned to look at Daryl, standing off to the side, facing her in the dark, and she wondered what his hands would feel like on her breasts, between her legs. How heavy would he feel on top of her? How would his lips feel tasting her skin? What would he feel like inside her?_

 _In the bunker they sat side by side on the bed, not touching, not talking, both lost in their own worlds until Daryl broke the silence._

 _"You need things like that?" He was looking at her, his hair half covering his face, his voice cautious._

 _"Things like what?"_

 _Daryl jerked his head to the door, "like what we saw outside."_

 _"What? Sex?"_

 _Daryl bit his bottom lip and nodded his head. Sasha had leaned forward and moved his hair from his face, brushing it back behind his ears. She had caught his eyes scanning her body as she did so._

 _"Are you offering Daryl," Sasha had asked with a wry smile on her face. For a brief moment she clearly saw herself with her legs up in the air, Daryl naked on top of her, clenching his ass muscles as he moved inside her._

 _"What?" Daryl sputtered. "Never. I would never do that with you."_

 _"Calm down Daryl," Sasha responded dryly. "Don't get your panties in a knot."_

 _Daryl had flushed and smiled at her. "Well, they're g-string panties so they tend to get twisted."_

 _She couldn't help but laugh at his quip before calming and looking at him, his comment hitting her fully as her heart sank to disappointment. "Am I that bad that you would never? With me?"_

 _"I...No. I didn't mean like that." He sighed, looking down at the bed, unable to meet her gaze. "I would just never, you know, use you that way. Like that was all you're there for."_

 _Sasha nodded. She wasn't worthy of a tryst. Was she worthy of something more? "Is there anyone here you would do that with?" He only stared, his expression unreadable. "There are a lot of women here who would gladly do that with you,"_

 _He simply snorted. "Like who?"_

 _"There's Tracy, the tall blonde. Lilly, the short woman with the long brown hair. A few others whose names I don't know."_ Me _, she thought but said nothing. "You've got a harem of women who have crushes on you."_

 _"Stop," he said, chewing on his thumb._

 _"There's no one you're interested in?" Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited for his answer. He only stared, letting his hair fall back in his face._

 _"I guess I used to have a thing for Michonne." Sasha's heart dropped. "Then I realised that she was Rick's and got over it."_

 _"Rick and Michonne got something going on?"_

 _"They don't know it yet, but they do. It's plain as day. Been evident since before the Governor attacked."_

 _She nodded, thinking about how down Rick got when Michonne left to search for the Governor and how happy he became when she came back. Daryl's crush on Michonne ended before she and Ty moved back to the prison and she felt relief in that._

 _"No one since Michonne?"_

 _Daryl only shrugged before slowly meeting her eyes with a guarded gaze. "And you?You got a thing for anyone?"_

 _"I guess I do." She looked up at him as he stared at her, his eyes bright with...was it fear? "I'm not ready to say who it is out loud though."_

 _They both fell back into silence. She pulled her knees up to her chest and stared up at the high ceiling and he went back to chewing on his finger. They could hear the soft sound of the wind blowing through the small windows and the air trickled down on them. Daryl lit up a cigarette and blew the smoke upwards in hopes of not bothering her even though she insisted that she didn't mind. The moment ticked on slowly as she tried to figure out what she was feeling after their conversation. The closest thing she could name was loneliness._

 _Daryl cleared his throat and almost whispered, "Do you need it? Sex?"_

 _"No. I don't need it. It would be nice though."_

- **oOo** -

They were nearing the prison. Daryl could see the towers in the distance, patched up with corrugated steel and used as housing for couples. As they got closer they sped up so as not to be swarmed by the mass of walkers that kept growing daily at the fences. He wasn't very impressed with the work the fence clearers were doing. They didn't seem to understand the importance of keeping the fences free of walkers. A mass of them pressed against the chain links, growling and pulling at the steel barricade. They would have to install more logs to reinforce it again soon.

"Almost there," he said to Sasha as he watched the gate open. As they pull through and he went to park he looked at her. "You gone be okay?"

"Yeah." She began to gather her things as he shut the engine off. "Will you come later?"

"After dark, yeah."

She didn't move. She watched him as she slowly came to a final decision about them and then she leaned forward and rested her head against the dashboard.

This was the norm. She wasn't going to say anything. She wasn't talkative, she was always straight and to the point. That's what he liked best about her. After a few times out scouting they had simply begun to gravitate towards each other, towards the lonely togetherness they shared. People in the prison started calling them the Chatty Cathys due to the way they never seemed to speak except the few directives they would give each other when out on missions, always seemingly in sync with one another.

"You sure you're okay?"

"I just need a moment." She didn't want to leave the vehicle. Out there she would be confronted with the stench of the walkers whose numbers grew larger each and every day. They couldn't figure out how they kept constantly drawing so many. Why they never moved on in the night when there was no activity, what kept attracting them to the same spot in the fence day after day.

She just wanted to feel normal for a little while longer before she headed down to help the fence workers to get her mind off the disaster of the day then go get something to eat, a shower and sneak down to the bunker.

Daryl hadn't attempted to move. She could feel his eyes on her and she was grateful for the company but she didn't need him to feel obligated.

"You don't have to wait with me," she told him, wanting to crawl into his arms and be held by him.

"I don't mind. I'll wait." He gave her a half smile and reached out for her before pulling back. "Do you feel responsible because you shouldn't."

"No. Not really. There was no way to know what was on that roof but...," she paused, unable to comprehend how she really felt. "I just want to take a break from reality for a while. Not wake up to the walking dead. Not see them. Not smell them. Not hear them."

She felt the roughness of his calloused hands on top of hers and looked down as he grasped her hand.

"Are you burning out?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. But I can feel it coming."

"Maybe you can take a few days. Hide out in the bunker and disappear for a while."

 _If only_ , she thought. "No. The time to rest is not now. Maybe after we become more self sufficient, but not now."

Her face fell for an instant and all he wanted to do was pull her to him and comfort her. The most he was able to give her though was a squeeze of her hand before pulling away as she sighed deeply.

Sasha sat up and nodded her head, grabbed her gear and opened the door. "Gotta face it," she said as she stepped out.

"Tonight," Daryl said stepping outside too. "We can escape it for a little while tonight."

Sasha smiled, "I'll see you later Daryl."

He leaned against the car and watched her head down to the outer gates, regretting he didn't take the chance and at least pull her into a tight embrace. One day he'd work up the courage to tell her that he cared about her and not just as a friend. One day he'd work up the nerve to lean in towards her and plant a soft kiss on her mouth when they were alone. One day. He sighed and headed inside to find Beth and let her know that another person she cared for was lost.

* * *

 _Daryl had turned away from the sink only to see Sasha there, eyeing him cautiously. He had come down to the showers so late to be alone, so no one would be able to see him without his shirt. But she saw. He could almost feel himself shrink at knowing she had seen the scars on his back. No one was allowed to see that, he had always made sure._

 _A part of him was angry at her for witnessing it. His childhood pain, the reason behind his anger. The reason behind the knowledge that he wasn't worth anything._

 _"You need something?" He glared at her, almost daring her to mention his back to him._

 _"Your back." Her eyes had been steady on his. She was always fearless that way._

 _"My dad liked to use the belt, buckle and all, when I got out of hand."_

 _Her eyes filled with concern and he scowled at it. She took a step back. "I'm sorry."_

 _"I ain't asking for your pity," he spat out at her, trying to move around her to get to his shirt and shoes on the bench behind her._

 _"I'm not trying to give you pity."_

 _"But you feel sorry for me?"_

 _She paused and went to sit on the bench next to where he picked up his shirt to put on. "I guess I do. No child deserves that kind of treatment. And if you were anything like you are now, then you were a good kid. Kind and smart. Adventurous and brave."_

 _He didn't answer her. All he had been able to do was stare before taking a deep breath and sitting down next to her. A part of him had wanted to ask her why she believed those things about him. Another part was mistrustful of her words._

 _Sasha shook her head. "When I worked as paramedic, before I became a firefighter, I saw all kinds of things parents did to their kids," she played her hands against each other. "Thing with kids is, they're so sweet and innocent that no matter how terrible their parent's were, they wanted nothing more than to love them, wrap their little arms around them, defend them."_

 _"If I was such a good kid, why would my dad beat the living shit out of me?"_

 _Sasha had lifted her hand up and brushed his hair from his face. His body tingled at her gentle action that came so naturally to her._

 _"Sometimes people don't love themselves. Sometimes they see things in children that remind them of their own failings and that insecurity turns into hatred and jealousy of the child. Maybe you reminded your dad of everything he wasn't, couldn't be and he wanted to do nothing more than to bring you down to his low level."_

 _Daryl snorted._ Ridiculous _, he thought and he looked away from her. He felt her hand cup his face to turn his gaze back her way._

 _"I truly wish you saw yourself the way the rest of us do. Or at least believed that we saw the things we do." She looked sadly at him, as if his insecurities affected her personally._

 _And just like that, he was hers. He had known for a long time that he was developing feelings beyond friendship for her, but in that moment it became a solid knowledge. Sasha Williams was the woman he would pine for, possibly fall in love with, until the day he died. It was a new feeling for him. And long after that night his mind would turn to her in the dark hours of night. His heart would start to beat faster when she got near him. His desire would move from longingly thinking about her body to longingly thinking about her heart and how he wanted nothing more than to possess it._

 _She had stood up and held out her hand, "come on."_

 _He stared at her, confused and timid, noticing the lantern in her hand._

 _"I want to show you something. You'll like it."_

 _He had taken her hand and followed as she led him behind the showers, down a long corridor where no one ever went until they reached a solid door. Sasha pushed it open and they walked down three steps before she turned back and shut the door behind them._

 _"Where are you taking me?" It was dark back there, almost a pitch black. Sasha lit the solar powered lantern and he saw that they were in a short hallway where the windows were narrow rectangles at the top of the wall._

 _"My bunker," she had led him to another door made of steel that opened up to a small cell that he presumed had been a place for solitary confinement. The ceiling was high, at the top were more slat windows that allowed for the flow of air. It was decorated with a prison mattress topped with a thick comforter and pillows on top of two pallets. Next to the bed were stacks of books. Nothing else._

 _"I found this about a month back. I come here to get away from everyone. Maybe," she paused and shrugged. "Maybe you can use it too."_

- **oOo** -

Daryl showered and dressed quickly and, grabbing up his crossbow, made his way down to the bunker. He was still in a bit shocked and upset at Beth's reaction to Zach. The sad reality that this world had been able to take away Beth's sweetness, her innocence. He recalled her words about not getting close to anyone anymore. The way she had shrugged the death off, as if the boy she had been running around with for the last two months meant nothing at all to her, saddened him.

He ran his hands along the walls of the corridor as he walked towards the dim light of the bunker. The door was open and he stepped in to find Sasha sitting lengthwise on the bed in nothing but a tank top, her pants and shoes resting neatly in the corner with an axe lying on top of them. Her shapely legs protruding from the hemline, her foot shaking as she looked up at the ceiling. Her eyes rolled towards him as he stepped into the room. If she had noticed him staring at her legs she didn't give it away.

He cleared his throat after he closed the door, taking off his shoes and making his way to lay down in the space behind her on the bed near the wall. As he turned on his side she slid further down the bed so that they lay almost spooning each other. Instinctively Daryl grabbed a pillow and placed it between them near his groin.

The tank top had ridden up higher and exposed almost all of her thigh. He only dragged his eyes away when she reached back and grabbed his arm, pulling it over her waist and resting the palm of his hand on her stomach.

Sasha relaxed when she felt Daryl's grip on her tighten, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her shirt. The silence enveloped them like a warm blanket and they settled into it.

"Do you want me to turn out the light?" Sasha's head turned slightly to him.

"Just dim it," Daryl said. "I don't want it completely dark." As Sasha leaned down to grab the lantern her shirt rose up past her hips, exposing her backside clad in cotton panties. The edge of the left cheek showing where the panties had shifted, displaying the roundness of her ass. Daryl came alive in his pants, unable to tear his eyes away as the light in the room grew darker, softening the texture of her skin in the now faint glow from the lantern.

Sasha turned as she got back fully into the bed and saw Daryl's eyes drag from her exposed underwear and settle, with a burning hot desire, on her face before he averted them completely. As his arm came back over her waist without her prompting she felt her stomach plunge with excitement. She reached back and removed the pillow from between them. Daryl said nothing as he took it from her while she pushed back against him, feeling his hardness against her.

"Do you remember that time we saw that couple in the field? And the question you asked me after? If I needed it?" Sasha's voice was barely audible as she forced herself to ask.

Daryl's heart thundered in his chest and his breathing became loud and ragged. "Yeah."

" I don't need it but what if I wanted it? With you?" Her voice was still quiet and unsure.

A slow breath was released from Daryl's lips as he began to comprehend what she was saying. "What changed?"

"I kept telling myself to wait. When things settle, then I could think about those things. But things may never settle. I want to feel alive, no just like someone existing. I don't want to wait to feel joy in my life."

He nodded. He could understand that. If they waited for the perfect moment to enjoy their time on earth they may end up waiting forever. There would be no perfect time. "And you want it? Or you want it with me?" The question came out in a shaky voice. He needed to know if it was him and only him or if he could be just any guy to satisfy her needs.

Sasha turned to face him, her eyes searching his face. "I want it with you."

The sides of Daryl's mouth twitched and a look of raw discomfort came over him briefly before being replaced with determination. "If you wanted it, with me, then I guess I would give it you."

He forced his eyes to meet hers, trying to remember to breathe as he did. Her large eyes softly resting on his face while the corners of her mouth curled gently upwards. He stopped breathing again as her hand touched his face and she leaned forward, her eyes closed, and pressed her lips against his.

There was nothing. No give back from him on her kiss at all. She opened her eyes and was met by Daryl's eyes wide and fearful as her mouth moved away from his stiff lips. Everything inside her plummeted. She felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes and a deep embarrassed shame.

"Wow," was all she could think to say as she began to slowly pull away from him, a strong desire to be swallowed up or to simply disappear came over her. She then moved faster, needing to get away from him, away from that room, to deal with the sudden humiliation of being rejected that was engulfing her.

Daryl reached out and placed his hand on her back, stopping her. His strength making it impossible for her to continue her backward motion.

"Don't," he said.

"I thought...," she began but he cut her off.

"I'm just really nervous Sasha." His look was soft, innocent, but his grip on her still firm. "I never had a girl I liked like me back." His hand left her back and came up to stroke her cheek. "Can we try again? I'll move this time, I swear."

He edged his face forward, needing to have a second try at feeling her soft lips against his. Needing to not walk away from this thing that he had spent so many nights dreaming about, yearning for. To show her that his desire for her was great. To show her that all that he wanted in this moment and many others to come was to be with her, completely.

The kiss began gently, sweetly. Nothing more than lips smacking softly against each other, mouths kept closed then widening, allowing tongues to graze together before being swept inside and rubbing along each other. Moans started low and slowly increased in volume and urgency as the kiss became passionate, starting a burning lust in their groins.

Sasha's arms went around his neck, her leg around his waist as he pulled her closer, his hand rubbing up and down her back. He didn't want to let her go. He didn't want to break the kiss. As her body pressed against his hardness she began to rub along it, creating a friction that made him break free of her beautiful mouth and groan loudly.

She gripped his arm that was around her and freed herself from his grasp and slid off the bed standing before it. Jaws slack and in desperate need for more, Daryl sat on the edge of the bed and watched as she pulled the shirt up over her head, exposing her full and firm breasts to him.

"Holy. Shit," was all he could say as he eyed her dark nipples, hard and beckoning him. A smile crossed her face and she began to slowly push her panties down while his eyes darted between her soft mounds and the trim triangle between her legs.

Daryl stood and slowly took off his shirt, his eyes never leaving her, a tingling spreading all over his body. The moment his jeans moved past his rigid member it stood erect and swollen. Sasha licked her lips as she eyed it and he smiled at the blatant desire on her face. He kicked his pants away and stepped towards her. He felt a surge of nervous energy as his hands grazed the skin of her breasts, his thumbs rubbing the hard nipples. He bent his head down and pressed his lips once more against hers, licking his tongue at first her top then her bottom lip, sucking the latter inside his mouth and feeling the plumpness of it, savoring the feeling.

His mind was whirling. Sasha, his Sasha was naked, her soft breasts under his hands, her sweet lips on his, her tongue in his mouth, moaning for him. She needed him and he needed her more than he needed air at that moment.

He dropped his hands down to her ass, giving it a firm squeeze and scooped her up suddenly in his arms as she let out a surprised squeal, her legs wrapping around him. He carried her back to the bed and lay her gently on it, his mouth moving to her neck, his fingers stroking the wetness between her legs. He matched her every gasp with a groan, reveling in the feel of her beneath him. Her back arched up as he took a nipple in his mouth, her hips bucked as he slipped a finger into her slick heat which pulsed with excitement as he moved in and out of her.

This was better than the fantasies he had worked out in minute detail alone on his perch. Her skin was hot under his touch. Her core was dripping and wanting. Her body the most wondrous thing he had ever seen, ever felt. Curvy, full breasts, taut thighs, firm ass. All writhing under him as he slipped a second finger in her and moved his mouth to play with the other nipple. She gripped his hair and lifted her legs around his waist, unabashed in her pleasure.

His tongue tickled her skin as he licked down her, kissing at her stomach. He kept massaging his fingers inside her, sending ripples of excitement quivering through her body and settling in the pit of her stomach. She watched him, his hair falling down around his face and brushing lightly against her skin. His head went lower and he caught her eyes before pressing his mouth against her centre, licking slowly at her bud as his fingers continued to probe inside her.

She worked her hips against him, listening to him moan and grunt, getting pleasure from pleasuring her. The way he worked her body was with the same confidence he showed going up against danger. None of his timidness was there. Not even when he pulled his fingers free of her and sat up on his knees, sucking her wetness from them while his eyes traveled slowly along her body to meet hers.

He couldn't wait any longer. He was rock hard, almost in pain, and he needed to enter her. Feel her heat engulf him, wrap around him and suck him in. Her soft sighs had turned into loud cries as his fingers became soaked with her arousal. He nestled himself, on his knees, between her legs, moving close to her center. Her eyes, soft dark pools, watching him.

"You're beautiful Sasha," he whispered as he grabbed his member and stroked it along her slit, sending electric currents through him, before placing it against her precipice. He looked down so he could watch himself enter her.

"Wait, stop," Sasha said suddenly. The look Daryl gave her when her words registered was one of utter horror. "Stop, we can't."

Daryl let out a pained breath and bent his body until his head rested on her stomach. His bit his lips and fought a very real urge to simply cry. His heart was pounding in his ears and in the background he could hear Sasha speaking rapidly, but he couldn't make out her words. He simply let go of his painfully hard cock and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing heavily.

"I want to, I do, but," Sasha felt horrible for what she was doing. Her pussy was quivering with anticipation but her brain was telling her this wasn't the time. "There are no condoms, no birth control. I like you Daryl. I honestly do, but I don't want to risk a pregnancy with someone, anyone, I only like but don't love."

Her final speech had registered with him and he groaned. Always sensible, always cautious Sasha was speaking to him. And like always, it made sense. Horrible sense.

"If I were to have a baby in this world, I would need it to be with someone I loved. Who loved me. Where taking care of our child wouldn't be a burden. Where being a family wouldn't be an obligation."

"Okay, Sasha." Daryl took a deep breath and pulled himself away from her. "Okay." He stood up and went to pick up his clothes.

"Where are you going?"

"I can't lay next to you. Not tonight. Not when I'm feeling like this," he motioned to his still erect penis.

A smile broke out on her face and she sat up and faced him. "Daryl. Just because we can't have intercourse doesn't mean we can't do other things." She reached out and pulled him closer. Her hand wrapped around his erection and began to slowly stroke him. "There are other ways we can be together." His eyes closed as he enjoyed her hand on him. "Come back and I'll show you."

He stopped the motion of her hand and removed it from him, shaking his head. "Lay back down," he told her. "I want to do you first."

He moved between her legs, his fingers slipping back inside her, his lips back on her body, to continue what it was he had started.

- **oOo** -

Sasha could still taste herself on his lips as she kissed him. She could still feel the sensation of him at the back of her throat. Her pussy could still feel the orgasm he had given her with his tongue and fingers.

"That was okay?" She snuggled closer to him, both still naked, the quilt over them.

A soft serene smile crossed his lips as he nodded before kissing her again. Her head settled on his chest and he held her to him tightly, possessively.

"You wanna sleep here tonight?" he asked, a yawn escaping him.

"Yeah." She listened to his breathing, content and sated. Her eyes grew heavy under his rhythmic breaths and his fingers softly caressing the skin on her arm.

Daryl let out a low laugh. "I never would have thought you could get so loud."

She smacked at his arm, laughing herself. "You really think I'm uptight don't you?"

Daryl held his hand up to her and placed his thumb and forefinger an inch or two apart and chuckled at the indignant look she gave him. "I like it though. You got a good head on your shoulders."

They kissed again. Slow and deep, his hand stroking her cheek. After they pulled apart he rested his forehead against hers, trailing a finger along her hot skin. She moved back to laying her head on his chest while he stroked her shoulders in the comfortable silence they so often shared.

"Sasha?" his voice came softly in the dim light. "I don't want this to be some kind of...," Daryl shrugged, unsure of what he wanted to say. "This meant something to me. You mean something to me."

"Do I?"

"Yeah. For a long time now. I meant what I said before. I don't want to use you for sex and then act like buddies. What I feel for you, it's more than that. I want us to be more than that."

"So what do you want to be?"

"I wanna be your man Sasha."

She turned her head up and looked at him. "Could you love someone like me Daryl?"

"Easy." His eyes met hers, holding her gaze.

She moved closer to him. "I could love someone like you too."

The stroking of her arm stopped and she could feel his heartbeat become rapid beneath her head.

"You could?"

The shock in his voice was clear and she wanted, needed, to find a way to show him that he was worth so much. That a woman wanting to love him wasn't an anomaly, something far fetched or impossible.

"Yes Daryl. You're the fourth best man I know."

"Who are the other three?"

"My dad, Tyreese, and Hershel."

"That's some club." His voice was quiet as he spoke. Two of those men Sasha thought the world of. Loved and admired greatly. And Hershel. He was the glue that kept everyone together. The voice of reason, the voice of compassion, the person that forced the group to keep their humanity.

"And you belong in it Daryl Dixon and don't ever forget that."

Both arms encircled her and hugged her tightly.

"I'll...I'll try Sasha."

- **oOo** -

It was early when the walked out the bunker. The sound of water running in the shower could be heard as they opened to door that led out of the corridor behind the showers. Before they stepped out Daryl leaned down, holding his crossbow behind his back and kissed Sasha's neck as she hugged him to her.

They moved slowly and quietly through the showers so as not to disturb the person there. Sasha bent her head and looked beneath the curtain.

"No one's in there," she said, incredulous that someone would waste water in that way. She pulled back the curtain and turned the water off.

"Some of these people are such assholes," Daryl mumbled taking her hand in his.

They made their way along the halls towards their cell block. Going slower the closer they got and finally stopping a short distance from the entrance.

"What happens once we're in there?" Daryl turned to her, stepping so close their bodies touched.

"What do you want to happen?"

"I wanna be able to touch you and give you kisses without worrying Tyreese is gonna break my jaw."

Sasha laughed. "Tyreese won't break your jaw." She leaned her axe against the wall and tilted her head up and moved towards him for a kiss. Her eyes closed and she sighed as she felt his lips against her and she hooked her fingers in his belt loops to pull him in and keep him there.

Then there was screaming. Shrill, terrified. They broke apart looking around.

"Let's go," Daryl said breaking from her and running back down the hall, Sasha following.


	2. This is Not the End

**Chapter 2**

 **This is Not the End**

Dear God, how have you been then?  
I'm not fine, fuck pretending  
All of this death your sending  
Best throw some free heart mending  
Invite you in my heart, then  
When done, my sins forgiven?  
This God of mine relaxes  
World dies I still pay taxes  
 **"God Am"**  
 **Alice in Chains**

- **oOo** -

They sat watching the sunrise behind the peak of the hill in the distance. The storm had twisted the landscape behind them, sweeping the walkers to the far reaches or crushing them under the fallen limbs and trunks of trees. Sasha could hear them faintly growling in the background.

All the anger and pain of yesterday had faded and now she felt nothing, just drained and hollow, like a part of her heart had fallen out and only an empty space remained. Maggie began digging the toe of her boots into the dirt, she looked periodically at the music box that didn't work which sat next to them on the fallen tree trunk they were on.

A little over a two weeks ago they had been living surrounded by the walls of the prison and now they weren't even sure if they would make it from one day to the next as they faced starvation and thirst and exposure living on the road without any form of shelter in sight. They had lost their home, almost all of the people who had resided there, and their loved ones.

Maggie sniffled and wiped away her fresh tears. She had lost so much. Having to watch Hershel murdered in such a horrific way had taken its toll on her. Running to claim Beth only to have her also die was too much for anyone to bear. It was all too much to bear.

Sasha reached over and took hold of Maggie's hand and gave it a squeeze. They continued to watch the sky become brighter, their fingers entwined, giving small comfort and support.

The two had stuck together along with Bob after the prison fell. Where Maggie had held on to hope of finding the one's she loved and cared for, Sasha had given up, almost immediately. The moment they fled the yard of the prison into the woods she had lost all faith. She couldn't bring herself to believe any good was left, she had suddenly felt that all there was to do was hunker down and wait for death to claim her. Feeling as if no one was allowed to have any safety, anything positive in this world. By the time Bob had died, his skull crushed in a tunnel by the falling ceiling he had shot down to block the walkers that were racing towards them from the other side, Sasha contemplated putting the gun she had in her mouth.

Her hope rose again when they found Glenn and his new companions; Abraham, Rosita, Eugene and Tara. That hope withered away as they were herded into the boxcar at Terminus. Hope flickered again when they were joined by Rick, Michonne, Carl and Daryl. He had held her hand in the dark as Rick formulated a plan for them to get free. The flicker ignited into a flame when Tyreese was safe and sound.

Then the fire was burned out completely when Tara was dumped on the lawn of Father Gabriel's church, her leg missing, having been eaten by the survivors of Terminus who had hunted and tracked them like they were wild game. She had been taken in the dark by them and they had fed on her until they discovered she was doomed. Bitten by a walker while out scavenging supplies.

Then Beth had been lost at the last moment when they had gone to rescue her and worst of all, Tyreese had died.

Despair and anger had filled all the gaps in Sasha then. She couldn't begin to see the point of going on. The world sent her a clear message that no matter what, death was coming for her and those she cared about.

After last night though, Sasha now knew that she still wanted to live, wanted to push through all this burnt out pain that had faded into nothingness. She knew it when she ran to hold the barn door against the threat behind it, that pushed forward to enter their sanctuary. She ran without thought to assist Daryl and Maggie, digging her boots into the mud to gain traction against the shoving from an untold number of walkers. When the others came to put their weight against the doors she realised she was chanting over and over in her head; _not today_.

She couldn't bring herself to really think about Daryl. Since that brief moment of comfort in that boxcar at Terminus, it was as if they were strangers. They had been forced into survival mode and then they went through their own separate grief.

They had only had one night together where they had finally stopped pretending that they weren't attracted to one another. Where they had admitted that they wanted to build off that attraction and then it was blown away by tragic event after tragic event. They now stood on opposite sides of a wide gulf opened up by the second attack on the prison by the Governor.

There was a sharp click and both Sasha and Maggie jumped, releasing their hands. The music box started, the music tinkling, breaking the silence with a tinny melodic sound as the small ballerina began to spin.

The women looked wide eyed at each other and laughed.

"I guess Daryl did fix it," Maggie said, standing up and stretching. Sasha smiled. She felt like there was still magic in the world at that moment, watching the golden rays of the sun spread across the field ahead of them and listening to the music in the background.

There was crunching on the ground as someone approached them. Sasha stood up and held her rifle up as Maggie pulled out her pistol and got ready to draw on whoever was coming their way. Daryl came around the side of the bushes and paused.

"Ya'll gone shoot me now?" He questioned.

Sasha and Maggie let out their breaths and smiled at him.

"No," Sasha told him and sat back down.

"Whatcha doin' out here?" Daryl moved past them and shut the lid of the music box and sat on the trunk next to Sasha. His shoulders touching hers, the tips of their fingers ghosting each other. She looked over at him and he gave her a small smile and all she could give him in return were sad eyes.

Maggie simply shrugged. "Needed to get out."

"Yeah," Daryl said, rubbing his hand over his face. "I was out putting down those walkers"

Sasha saw Daryl's boots were caked not only with mud, but also blood and clumps of goo she assumed were brains. He had stomped the walkers. He had been antsy all day yesterday, needing to wander off, be alone. Like Sasha, he had kept to himself, quiet and on edge. Unlike Sasha, he had held himself together, somewhat at least. Sasha noticed the burn mark on his hand. Made by a cigarette, she was sure. The small red circle puckered around a pale, seeping centre.

"We should," Maggie began, then her face screwed up and she sobbed loudly, bending forward and shaking with tears. Sasha got up and wrapped her arms around Maggie and held her tightly, running her hands along Maggie's back.

This show of emotion was a good thing, it showed Maggie would get through this. She would feel all she needed to feel then the pain would subside. Sasha knew she also needed to have her own powerful cry but it just wouldn't come. She was wooden inside. There was nothing there.

- **oOo** -

They needed to get moving. They couldn't spend another night in the barn. It wasn't safe. They needed to find food and seek a more permanent shelter. Michonne had been right about that. Another day like yesterday and they'd start dropping like flies.

They were packing up their possessions, their faces drawn, their movements slow. Rick was feeling tense, not sure he would be able to get them out of this one, not sure if he had the answers they were looking to him to have.

"What do we do now?" Michonne was standing next to him, her eyes full of concern, her voice low.

Rick slowly shook his head, he had no clue. He watched Carl cut up an apple into small pieces and feed them to Judith, the boy's hands shook from hunger but he didn't take one piece of the fruit for himself.

Rick wanted to scream. He never wanted to see his children hungry, unsafe but here he was watching it happen.

Michonne placed her hand on his. "Take a deep breath. We'll figure this out," she told him.

If there was one thing Rick was grateful for in this moment it was knowing that he could be weak with Michonne. She wouldn't judge him, fear his decisions, doubt him. He thought maybe she appreciated it, it proved he wasn't going to break from having to constantly be strong for everyone.

"First thing we need to do is find a vehicle. Two if we're lucky but we need a car even it that mean piling up three deep and placing people in the trunk." Rick said.

"Yeah, okay. I think we should get that water too."

"No."

"Yes Rick. We can do a real check to see if it's tampered with but we need water."

"We can't risk it Michonne. What if it's poisoned?"

"What if it's not? Look, we just take it as a last choice. If we have another day like yesterday we die. Taking the water means we at least die trying."

"The very last resort," Rick said. He walked to the middle of the barn. "Everyone. We need to get moving. We're going to retrace our steps and look for a vehicle. We need to find someplace we can hold up for a while and work on looking for something more permanent."

"Like the prison?" Glenn asked. "That didn't go too well."

"It's better than this. We can't keep moving place to place every day or two. We have to hunker down, we need a steady supply of food, we need walls, we need to feel human again."

Daryl, Sasha and Maggie walked through the doors then. He hadn't even realised they were gone. There were too many of them to keep living out in the open. And with Judith, she didn't know to keep quiet, how to express herself in whispers, she would draw walkers to them every time she was in need of something. As if on cue, his baby girl started fussing and letting out short cries. He went to her, her diaper was soaked through and soiled. He checked his pack but all he found was a plastic bag filled with other soiled diapers.

This was no kind of life. He almost wished they had remained at the chapel in Georgia, maybe they could have circled back and retaken the prison. They would have been smarter about it, lining the outer fences with log walls all the way around and have those walls fronted by spikes. They could make a rule that all cell doors be closed with ropes tied around them to ensure no one got out if they turned in the night. There was so much he hadn't thought of doing before that he now regretted. Mostly he regretted not killing the governor when he had the chance.

There would be no more chances. Anyone who crossed them would die. Immediately.

Rick pulled his shirt off and wrapped it around the baby. He needed water and soap to clean her diapers, there would be nothing left to cover her in once she soiled through his shirt.

Michonne came over and handed him the sheet they used to hold Judith to their backs. "Here, use this instead. We can cut it in half and make two diapers. If we can't clean the rest, your shirt will be the last resort."

Rick watched her cut the cloth and remove his shirt from around the baby and rewrap her. He was so grateful to Michonne, for everything she did for him and his kids. He felt so weighed down by the burdens placed on him by these people. He was their leader, but he didn't think he had it in him to lead anymore. He didn't know the right decisions to make now. He didn't have the answers to the questions that rested on their faces.

"I think I need a hug," Rick told her feeling suddenly lost and alone. She complied, wrapping her free arm around his neck and pulling his head to her shoulders. He placed his face in her neck and took a few deep breaths.

"We're gonna be okay," she told him and Judith cooed and babbled in her other arm. "You're gonna be okay."

- **oOo** -

He had sat and watched Sasha comfort Maggie who cried so hard she had started to gag. The sounds coming from her had scared him, paralysed him in his inability to do anything for her. He felt ashamed that in her greatest need all he could think was how he didn't know how to be there for her.

He felt responsible for her pain. If he had protected Beth better, not opened that door, taught her how to protect herself more, she wouldn't have been taken. She would not have ended up at Grady, where she tried to fight the injustice there only to have the top of her head blown off. They never would have met Noah, taken him home because that's what Beth wanted and Tyreese would still be alive. Their group wouldn't be trapped in the middle of nowhere in desperate need of shelter and provisions.

All of this dragged Daryl down. He was the fault for all their hurt. And if one more person died, that would also be his fault.

And then there was Sasha. He could do nothing for her. After Terminus they had split up looking for supplies, then he and Carol had taken off, chasing the car that took Beth. By the time he got back to the group, Sasha was completely changed. The Terminus people had tracked them down, taken Tara, cut off her foot and and had her watch as they ate part of her own body. He had asked Tyreese about the anger Sasha had displayed as they fortified the church but all Tyreese could do was shrug. And then Tyreese died and Sasha eyes turned empty and her anger had turned to rage.

Right now Sasha was surprisingly calm. He had thought she wouldn't make it to today, that in her rage she would have gotten herself killed. But there she was, soothing Maggie, telling her to let it all out, to feel her pain, that she would be there no matter what.

"We should get back," Maggie had said when she finally composed herself, wiping her face with the back of hand. She had turned and walked off, leaving Sasha and Daryl behind. Sasha had come back to the tree trunk and collected the music box then turned to him, holding up his hand.

"Did this make it better?" she asked of his burnt hand. Her look was matter of fact. There was no sympathy, no judgement, just a want to know if burning himself made him feel better.

It had, it had helped him cry for Beth, to release the tight knot that had been his chest since they buried her near Atlanta. He didn't answer her, only stared, somewhat ashamed to have been caught.

"What about you?" he asked. "You better today?"

"I'm not through it, but I'm gonna try."

He stepped towards her, wanting to gather her in his arms, let her know that he was there now, that he would be there for her from then on. Tell her that nothing had changed for him, but that he had been too distracted by everything to be her rock, be the man he should have been for her.

As he moved to open his mouth she turned abruptly and walked away leaving him no choice but to follow.

As they waited for Rick to gather Judith and head back out on the road Sasha walked over to Abraham and got the bottle of liquor he had been sucking on the day before. Abraham looked like he was nursing the mother of all hangovers and Rosita was impatient with him, huffing and turning her back to him.

Sasha took his hand and poured a bit of the liquid on his burn and he winced as it stung him.

"That should at least keep it from becoming infected," she said, taking a good look at his mark. "I wish..." she looked up at him, her dark eyes nothing but pools of sorrow.

"Don't worry about me," his hand cupped her cheek. "You take care of you." She nodded and went to give the bottle back to Abraham.

As they headed back into the sunlight Daryl hung in the back of the group. No one spoke. They walked slowly through the heat and Daryl scanned the edge of the woods to see if he could hear or see anything worth hunting. Maybe there'd be more dogs out there. Anything to fill the empty void in his stomach.

Overturned trees were scattered along the road, walkers that had been lifted up in the wind and smashed onto the ground also littered their path.

Carol hung back and walked next to him. He could feel her looking at him every so often but he kept his eyes straight ahead or at the woods. He knew she wanted something from him, something he couldn't give. Companionship? Comfort? Assurance? Whatever it was, it wasn't in him. He was too overwhelmed with his own feelings and remorse.

"I was thinking of leaving," Carol finally said.

Daryl glanced down at her. "Where you thinking of going? How you gone get there? What supplies you gonna pack?" He didn't want to hear about her leaving. Leave for what? What better options did she have other than the group?

"I just don't feel like I belong here anymore."

"None of us belong here, but here the fuck we are." He pulled a ratty cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

She was silent for a time. "I've done things."

"We all have. Maybe in hindsight they weren't the right things, but I don't think we've ever done things we knew at the time to be bad." He looked at her again. "Right?"

"Right," she said.

"No more talk of leaving. Leaving is suicide. Whatever bad things you think you've done...I know you Carol. I know you did it because you felt it was the only way not because you're bad or evil."

They came to the place where the bottles of water were left for them. Michonne and Carl started picking them up. Rick handed Judith to Maggie and he got the rest. He gave them no explanation. They just continued on down the sweltering road.

"I see something," Glenn shouted out as they walked through an intersection. Glenn stood pointing down the road to their left. "Behind that downed tree."

"Daryl, Michonne, Glenn, can you check it out?" Rick asked.

Daryl stepped forward and walked down the road with Glenn and Michonne. As they neared the fallen tree they heard the sound of a walker. Beneath the tree was a man who had been killed in the storm. He had wavy black hair and wore a dark blue jacket over a checkered blue shirt. Daryl kneeled down and stabbed him through the eye then removed the jacket from him.

No one batted an eye at him taking the jacket off the corpse for himself. It was the way things were done now.

They climbed over the fallen tree and saw an RV parked a few feet away.

"I'll keep watch," Michonne said to them. "You check out the RV."

Glenn and Daryl nodded. "I'll get the door, you take point," Glenn told him.

They first banged on the side of the vehicle then waited. Glenn grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it open and Daryl moved inside, knife ready, opening the doors to the bathroom and bedroom, checking under the seats. Nothing.

He opened the cupboards and found them stocked with food. The small fridge had water and more food. Daryl smiled and bounded out the RV. "There are keys, food, and water."

Michonne gave a relieved smile and went back to the fallen tree, stood on it and waved to the team.

"We need to eat before anything else," Daryl said to Glenn. "Then we'll at least have energy to search for gas if we need it. Maybe we'll all feel better too."

Daryl had started giving up hope, but now he found it again with the RV. All the pain they had endured the past two weeks, all the people they had lost, they deserved to catch a break. He needed to sleep somewhere safe. To relax and not be constantly on edge.

Daryl sat on the ground leaning against the RV eating a can of tuna and a jar of applesauce. Carol sat next to him, giving him looks that made him uncomfortable. There was so much need in her looks and he couldn't fathom what she would need from him. He wished she would just come out and speak her mind and not expect him to read her thoughts.

"This right here," he said, knocking on the side of the RV, "is a good thing. This is a real chance."

"A chance for what though?"

Daryl took a deep breath. He was really trying to be a friend to Carol but she couldn't rely on him right now for much, if she leaned too hard against him, he would fall down and bring her with him. And honestly, the small bit of energy he did have to be anyone's rock was reserved for Sasha.

"A chance for one more day," he answered her, wishing he had more smokes on him.

"Is that all? Just one more day?"

"It's more than most. We take it one day at a time, then maybe, we look towards a real future."

Carol nodded, got up and Daryl grabbed her hand. "Hey, you have family here. People who care for you. Whatever you're going through, go through it but know we'll be here for you. I'll be here for you. I understand."

A pained look came over Carol's face as she removed her hand from his went inside the RV.

- **oOo** -

Michonne sat in the passenger seat of the RV as Rick drove. They had been driving for a few hours, stopping along the way to sweep buildings and gather more supplies. She felt stressed. While the tension had subsided a bit with the group it was still there, floating thickly between all of them. They were all trying to hold it together.

She thought back to her time alone on the road, leading chained walkers, scavenging for food, resting wherever she could. Not knowing if she'd have the strength to make it through another day. Contemplating letting go and giving up. Her companionship came from talking to her boyfriend Mike in her head, forgetting that he was right there with her, armless, jawless, and wrapped in chains.

She looked behind her, the group sat throughout the RV, quiet, only Judith making a sound as she sat on Carl's lap. She looked over at Sasha and saw she and Maggie sat together, holding hands, both looking dazed and shell shocked. Michonne was glad Sasha had calmed down, turned her anger into something else. She had been where Sasha was, lost in a cycle of torment with only the need to destroy, self destruct and a desperate want to take as many people with her as she could.

Rick was speaking to her but she didn't hear it. "Hmmm?" she said as she turned to face him.

"We should look for someplace secure, like an office or apartment building. Someplace we can stay for a month or so, get our bearings. While we're there, we can scout out a more permanent location."

Michonne nodded and Rick glanced at her again and grabbed her hand. "We're gonna stop Michonne."

He didn't release her hand as he continued to drive, his eyes searching the road ahead for something as the evening crept up on them.

"We might have to settle on a house for tonight," he told her as they turned into a neighborhood lined with abandoned homes. He was now running his thumb back and forth along the top of her hand that he seemingly had no intention of letting go.

She was hyper aware of his skin against hers, the warmth of his calloused hands and soft stroking of his thumb. At times she felt such a stark closeness with Rick, sometimes the entire world would fall away and there would only be them, alone. Right now there was only them in that RV, in a calm that came with the decision of what they were going to do.

"There," Michonne said, pointing to a brick house surrounded by a brick wall. Rick turned to her and smiled. Slowly removing his hand from hers he pulled the RV to the side and stopped.

The gates of the house were chained with padlocks. Daryl got down and picked the lock to the driveway and Rick pulled the RV in. Michonne banged on the front door while Sasha stood at the windows watching. Glenn and Abraham had gone around the back.

A minute ticked by and nothing. Daryl closed and locked the chain back around the gate and picked the lock to the front door.

The house was intact. It looked like the owners may have evacuated at the start. Michonne looked through the drawers in one of the four bedrooms and saw they were emptied, only a few clothes were left. The sheets on the bed were dusty as were all the surfaces. She could hear Rick and Carl downstairs closing all the shutters on the windows.

Michonne removed the dusty sheets and began wiping down the surfaces with it. She inspected the attached bathroom and took some cleaning supplies and began to clean the tub and sink, surprised to find the water still running in the house.

Carol came in with her things. They would be sharing the room. Rick would have a room with his kids, Abraham and Rosita would get a room as would Glenn and Maggie. The men would spread out downstairs. Sasha and Daryl took the space in the attic to keep lookout during the night.

"There's water for bathing," Michonne told Carol. "We should fill two buckets and do laundry too. Michonne motioned to the bathroom. "You go first, I'm gonna find some sheets for the bed," Michonne said looking around.

Carol's face was strained.

"Are you all right?" Michonne asked her.

"Just stress. Daryl's out hunting squirrels. Maybe after a hot meal and a good night's rest I'll feel better."

Michonne squeezed Carol's shoulder, "it'll get better. I'll go find some buckets or something to wash our clothes in." Michonne walked out the bedroom.

"Boiling water," Carol called after her.

- **oOo** -

The street was quiet. Only a handful of walkers passed by the walls of the house. Sasha peered periodically through her night vision scope, her rifle pointed out one of the two windows in the attic which they had broken to be able to shoot out of. She had decided not to shoot any walkers unless absolutely necessary. She had picked out a tall house a few blocks over whose windows she would shoot out if too many walkers gathered in front of their house to draw them away from them. They needed to preserve bullets.

The house was a good find. It was solid brick with a brick wall, wrought iron gates and storm shutters. They would be safe here, for a few days at least but they needed more space. Everyone who wasn't a couple was crowded in the living room. Except Daryl, who was asleep in a sleeping bag behind her, ready to take over in a few hours so she could get some sleep.

She heard Daryl gasp and then there was a rustle of the sleeping bag as he stood up. He walked to the other window on the other side of the attic from her and looked out.

"Anything?" he asked.

"No. Couldn't sleep?"

"Naw. I keep seeing the top of Beth's head fly off in my dreams." He sat down against the wall.

Sasha nodded in the darkness. She had been thinking of Tyreese most of the day. Remembering their time together as kids, her bossing him about and him complying, always with an amused look on his face.

"It'll get better," Sasha told him, also taking a seat beneath the window she was at. "When my dad died I dreamt about him for months. Sometimes good, but mostly nightmares about him wasting away into nothing from the cancer."

"You doing better, with Tyreese? You cry yet?"

"No," she said honestly. "There's just...an emptiness."

"And anger," Daryl said. "I was really worried about you yesterday. I was just too caught up in my own shit to really notice before how much everything had affected you."

Sasha stood up again and went back to looking out into the darkness.

"I'm sorry Sasha. For not being there for you. You were really hurting yesterday but I just couldn't. I didn't know...," he sighed. "I'm just sorry."

"I understand. We've been through so much. Maybe too much." She turned from the window and faced him. "We thought we had it figured out. Thought we were building something but it was all an illusion. Maybe there is no sanctuary, no happy endings. Maybe we're just counting down the days until this is all over. Maybe...," her voice cracked and something swelled inside her chest and was released through tears that fell suddenly, without warning.

And there is was. The things she thought she wasn't able to feel. The hurt that she thought would never come. The tears she thought had dried and dissipated. She was unable to breathe as she choked on the pain that flowed out of her.

Daryl was in front of her, tentatively wrapping his arms around her. She wanted to push him away, but she couldn't. She shook and wept for her loss. She felt the absence of her brother. She would never look on his face again, never hear the sound of his voice, never feel his strong arms around her when she needed them most. He would never again talk her down from her anger at the unfairness of the world.

She finally gathered the strength to push Daryl off her. She sat back down against the wall and wiped away her tears, exhausted, no knowing if she could continue on with her watch.

Daryl was crouching in front of her, a water bottle extended her way. She took it and drank deeply.

He sat down across from her. "It's my fault."

"What's your fault?"

"Ty. It all comes down to me. If I had been better at protecting Beth." Daryl shook his head and then rambled out his theory about Beth and Noah and Tyreese.

Sasha closed her eyes against his words and thought bitterly, Beth should have known how to protect herself, but said nothing.

"It's not your fault. You risked your life to get Beth out. People like Tyreese aren't meant for this world." She took the dirty rag Daryl handed her and blew her nose. "He was always a giant teddy bear. His heart was too big, he was too good. You can't be good and kind anymore. You need a brutality he didn't have to survive this."

That was the part that made her angriest. Physically, Ty could outlive them all. But he was too kind. He didn't like to hurt people, he couldn't stand to look at the walkers and put them down and he didn't want to kill anyone.

Fresh tears flowed and she began to rub them away when Daryl grabbed her hand. "Just let it go Sasha. I'll take over the watch from here."

Sasha shook her head and got back up. "I need the distraction." She felt his thumb brush under her eye, collecting her drying tears. Then he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against hers and she wanted to welcome it but couldn't. She pressed the palm of her hand on his chest and pushed herself away from him. "Don't. I don't feel the same anymore."

For the first time in his life Daryl felt the sensation of having his heart broken. It was sudden, sharp and painful. Sasha watched his entire face fall and the look the sat upon it was pure hurt. He nodded his head and began to walk away from her but she grabbed his arm.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean it like that." She sighed deep. "I just. It's not just Ty dying. It's also Terminus. They were going to eat us Daryl." Her voice was a whisper then. "You were there, you saw what they had. They were growing food. They could have gotten animals to raise. If they were starving, desperate I could understand but they weren't. They made a choice to lure people in so they could feed off them. What kind of world have we been thrown into?"

He couldn't answer her, all he could do was stare. He thought back to her anger in the church as she broke apart the pews. The dark look on her face, the absolute anger she displayed when they drove into Atlanta to get Beth.

"I just don't think I want to...," she bit her lip as she looked at him. Knowing how she felt but not knowing how to tell him. "I can't be with you in that way Daryl. This world is so fucked up. I'm afraid if something good comes into my life it'll be ripped away. I can't go through that anymore." She spoke the words to the floor not wanting to see his expression. It pained her to have to reject him, hurt him, but she couldn't allow herself to become attached to someone else. Not again.

Daryl turned silently away from her and walked back to the other side of the attic, looking out the window there and lit a cigarette.

With a deep sigh Sasha also looked out the window she was at and watched a walker shuffle past the house unaware that behind the walls were living people.

- **oOo** -

Michonne couldn't sleep with Carol tossing and turning and mumbling in her sleep. She went downstairs, passing the men in the living room. Eugene slept on the couch, Gabriel was on some cushions on the floor and poor Noah was curled up on the dining room table.

In the kitchen she lit a candle and sat on the counter, trying to peek out the slats of the shutters on the window. All she saw was black. She went to the camping stove on the counter and used the candle to light the sterno. Putting a small pot of water on the stove, she waited for it to boil, deciding to make a cup of tea.

"Can't sleep?" Rick's voice floated out of the darkness from the doorway of the kitchen.

"No, you?" She was glad he was there. She could use some company.

"I woke up with Carl's elbow in my ribs and Judith's feet in my mouth."

Michonne smiled. She remembered the trials of sleeping with a small child. The feet and arms flying everywhere, being pushed off a king sized bed by a pint sized tyrant. If she knew then what she knew now, she would take back all those times she put Andre in his bed because she needed to get her sleep. Sleep for what? A high powered job that didn't amount to shit in the end?

"Carol is a restless sleeper," Michonne held up the box of tea bags. "Tea?"

He came closer to her, sitting on top of the counter, "sure."

Michonne grabbed two mugs out the cupboard and the sugar tin behind Rick, who barely moved as she reached around him. She could feel his eyes on her. As of late she had become hyper aware that Rick spent a lot of time watching her, staring, seemingly not cognizant of the social mores that dictated that this was not acceptable.

"How many sugars?" she asked, trying to ignore the raised hair on her body from the sensation of being near him.

"One should be fine." He watched her scoop the sugar into the mugs and check on the slow boiling water. "So, what do you think of this place?"

"We can't stay here. Maybe a few days, but we shouldn't remain while we really search for a permanent location."

He ran his hands through his hair. "Yeah, you're right. I'd prefer something higher up." he sighed and jumped off the counter and stood over her, looking into the pot that only just began to boil. "You and I should scout some places tomorrow. Alone."

Michonne's skin pricked. The water started bubbling and she removed the pot and poured hot water into the mugs. He remained behind her, all his social graces gone, unaware of how close he was. Their chests were inches apart when she turned to hand him his tea and his fingers grazed hers as he slowly took it from her.

She would love to be able to give in to the slight romantic feelings she felt for Rick, but she couldn't. Rick wasn't Mike, but he was very capable of falling apart and the stress of losing the prison was weighing them both down. She needed a reprieve, not a romantic entanglement.

"Anyway, I think while we're gone, Carl can keep judith. Glenn and Maggie can do a sweep of the neighborhood with Abraham, and the rest can stay here and hold down the fort, strip the house. Daryl and Sasha will most likely sleep the day through but if he gets up, maybe Daryl can get some more meat."

He had it all figured out. He was back to taking the lead, ordering the troops, deciding what they needed and how they would go about getting it.

"You think the two of us will be enough?" She sipped on her tea and stared over her mug at him.

"Yeah. We need to make the decisions. Too many voices and things get muddied. You know what we need and we can handle any dangers. We'll need to check the cars around here though. We can't afford to lose the RV if anything goes down and we have to abandon our vehicle."

"Yeah, makes sense."

"We'll get through this."

"We better. I can't take one more night with Carol. I need a solid sleep."

Rick leaned languidly against the counter and scratched at his full beard. "I need to shave this shit," he said to no one in particular. His eyes were back on her, looking her up and down. "You could sleep in my room."

It came out so casual it almost didn't register with her. Even with his large grizzled beard and snarl of tangled curls he looked good. She self-consciously tugged on her clothes and pushed her locks out of her face.

"I'll take the floor, I'm sure Carl's settled down, he won't elbow you."

Michonne smiled. Snuggling up with Judith sounded nice, smelling her baby scent and feeling her little fingers that liked to stroke Michonne's face when she was relaxed.

"Come on," Rick said, taking her mug from her and placing it in the sink. He took hold of her hand, something else he had started doing as of late, and led her back upstairs, holding the candle to light their way. Once inside the room he moved Carl over and picked his daughter up and motioned to the bed.

Michonne got in and sank comfortably into the mattress and took Judith into her arms. Rick searched the closet and came back with a comforter, folded it in half and placed it on the floor. He smiled his thanks when Michonne gave him her pillow and he settled in on the floor next to the bed.

Michonne place Judith on the bed between her and Carl, smiling when the little girl turned and she felt Judith's small hand on her back. In the dark she felt Rick's hand rest on top of the mattress and brush against her arm. She wanted to ask what he was doing, pull away and not feel comfort in his touch. Instead she snaked her fingers through his and closed her eyes.

"Goodnight Michonne."

"Goodnight Rick."


	3. No Going Back

**A/N: I am so taken aback by the responses to my second attempt at fan fiction. Thank you all so much for your extremely kind and thoughtful comments, the faves and the follows. I was hoping to load two chapter again but I am still working on ch. 4, but I will get that up as soon as possible.**

 **I hope you enjoy and again thank you all so very much.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 **No Going Back**

Hope, a new beginning  
Time, time to start living  
Like just before we died  
There's no going back to the place we started from  
 **"All Secrets Known"**  
 **Alice in Chains**

- **oOo** -

After she had told him that she didn't want whatever it was they had started in the prison they had sat in a deafening silence. Daryl had smoked cigarette after cigarette from one of the packs he had scavenged on their way to the house, feeling his chest grow tighter with each passing moment. Everytime he had remembered her words, _I can't be with you in that way Daryl_ , a lump grew in his throat. This was the most time they had spent together since they were last in the bunker and it just hurt so bad.

"Do you hate me," she had spoken softly to him.

"No. I don't hate you Sasha."

"I didn't want to hurt you."

 _But you fucking did_ , he thought bitterly, remaining quiet.

"I'm sorry Daryl."

"I'm sorry too." Then he lit another cigarette.

Sasha had cried on and off after that, trying to muffle her sounds. He would stand by her sometimes, giving her water or the rag for her nose. He didn't attempt to embrace or touch her again except to wipe at her tears when her sobs would subside, looking at him with her large brown eyes that were so sad.

He couldn't help but try to comfort her. She was so warm, and smelled of the fruity scent of the body wash she had bathed with, and her skin beneath his hands as he brushed away her tears was soft.

They had spoken intermittently. He had told her about Beth and the country club, how the bodies hung from the ceiling, how a torso was placed on a mannequin. He told of taking all the cash from the purses and wallets and the strange feeling he had as he used it for kindling. All his life he wanted money and there he was burning wads of it to get a little warmth and light on a dark night.

He had hated and loved Beth that night. Her innocence was at times nice to be in the presence of and other times it was an annoyance he had wanted to smash, shake out of her. Whimsy had no place in this world, especially when wandering on the outside, running from the living and dead alike.

He had rattled on and on, not knowing how to stop. Sasha was quiet, listening to him open up about thoughts and feelings he wasn't aware he had. He felt a burden lifted off him. He noticed Sasha rolled her eyes when he told her how Beth got her foot caught in a trap but didn't say anything about it. Sasha and Beth were as different as night and day. Women like Sasha didn't find girls like Beth amusing or charming. They scorned frailty, especially at a time when frailty was a liability, a death warrant.

He had stepped away from her then, going to the other window, deciding he was done talking about Beth.

"You can keep talking," Sasha had said to him across the room. "You sound like you have a lot to get off your chest."

"What's that suppose to mean?" he was suddenly defensive and angry at her and his inability to stop wanting her and his need to hold on to her all night.

She sighed. "It means if you need to talk, talk."

So he did. He talked about being with the claimers and how the ease with which he fit in with them made him sad because he knew he was nothing like them. How he knew he had to get away from them as soon as the chance came.

"How'd you end up with Rick and them?" Sasha had asked when he finally got quiet again.

"The claimers found them." He had noticed her looking at him, waiting for him to go on. "I don't want to get into all that. Just more bad shit that we ended up on the right side of."

"It's always bad shit," she said bitterly.

He had stared at her for a while, taking in her features, tempted to try to kiss her again. He didn't want to push himself on her though but he needed to let her know how he was feeling.

"You told me, that night in the bunker, that you didn't want to wait for things to settle to start enjoying your life. That you didn't want to be someone who was only existing."

Sasha had looked up at him like his words had hurt her but she had said nothing.

"But now you want to go back to simply existing. Is that it?" he had pushed on.

"Daryl, I...," she hadn't finished, just merely grappled for words.

"I want you to know that my feelings haven't changed. You may not be my woman anymore Sasha but I'm still your man."

Sasha had given him a sorrowful smile as tears streamed down her face in the greying light of the early dawn.

She was sleeping now in the bright sunlit attic, her face serene as she lay on top of her sleeping bag. She was so pretty when she wasn't focused on the mission at hand with her face in stern concentration, although she was pretty then too, but her sleeping face was more inviting, approachable. He found her utterly alluring. But now he had to go back to pretending that not being with her didn't bother him.

Daryl stood to head downstairs. He needed the restroom, to get some water and some food. He looked at his sleeping bag, knowing it would be best if he took it with him and bunked down in the living room with the other men but he prefered being able to lay down and watch Sasha sleep before he closed his eyes for the day.

- **oOo** -

Carol woke up after dreaming of Lizzie and Mika and Sophia all running together in a field of flowers that had begun to bleed with each step they took. She was crying as she sat up in the empty room. Immediately she wiped the tears away and steadied her breath. Pushing away the memories of her girls, none of whom she had been able to protect, she got up and pulled the sheets from the windows to let in the light of the dawn and went to get ready for the day.

In the kitchen she decided to prepare a large pot of oatmeal, hoping there would be enough to feed everyone in the house. Funny how easily she could move back into her former life of housewife. Carol had gotten a lot of joy from cooking. She used to imagine she was a host of one of those cooking shows, mixing her recipes and displaying the food lovingly on the plates. It was her escape from being Ed Peletier's wife. When she was in the kitchen it was the only time Ed would leave her alone and sometimes he would even muster up a sliver of decency to compliment her on her meals.

As she filled the pot with water to boil for the oatmeal she wondered what the name of her new cooking show would be. Before it was _The Cooking Goddess_. Now she supposed it would be _Making Due in the Apocalypse_. Carol laughed a little at the thought.

"Private joke?" A voice came from behind her and she jumped, turning around and looking at the awkward smile of Father Gabriel.

"Something like that," Carol answered, annoyed that he had interrupted her private time, the only small moment of joy she had felt in weeks.

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

Carol bristled. "No, I'm fine."

Father Gabriel stepped further into the kitchen. "Please. I don't feel right being of no use to the group. You all are so skilled out here and I'm just...well, a priest. I doubt spouting scripture would be of much help to you all right now, or that you'd want it." Carol's body tightened as she stared at him, trying but failing to not show her dislike of him.

He nodded in some understanding. "Miss...?"

"Carol," her lips were thin lines of displeasure as she spoke.

"Carol. You don't have to like me or engage me in conversation. Just bark out directions and orders and I'll happily follow."

Carol stared a moment longer than she should have before turning back to her pot of water. "Get enough bowls for everyone and spoons. You're gonna have to get Noah off the table and clean it off so we can eat there. Don't bother counting Daryl and Sasha. I doubt they'll be eating with us."

She heard him opening the cupboards and counting silently under his breath before taking dishes out and resting them on the counter. He then grabbed a rag from a drawer and stepped from the kitchen. Carol heard him whispering in the next room before she heard the sound of Noah grunting.

Carol didn't know how much longer of all this togetherness she could take. She wanted to flee, be by herself, get her head together. All she had done, all that she might do was weighing heavily on her. The guilt of her decisions played repeatedly in her mind. Had she made the right choices? Could there have been a better way?

She gripped the edge of the counter tightly trying to block out her thoughts. Daryl was right, leaving was suicide. But he was wrong about her not being a bad person, or possibly evil. She had wanted to tell him about Lizzie when they were in Atlanta but he had pushed the conversation away. He hadn't wanted to hear about her bad deeds, the things that happened to her after the prison fell. He hadn't even wanted to talk about what got her banished from the prison.

A stray tear fell down her face and she got rid of it with the flick of her finger.

- **oOo** -

Someone was walking down the hallway and Rick shot up. He had let go of Michonne's hand during the night and her arm hung down over the side of the bed. He got up quietly and opened the door. Hearing the creak of the hinges, Daryl turned around, his face glowing from the candle he held.

"I'm gonna rustle up some food then head on to bed. You think you can get someone to go on watch?"

"Yeah, no problem. Michonne and I are going out to scout another location. I'm sending Glenn, Maggie, and Abraham on a run."

"Yeah okay," Daryl said yawning.

"We may be gone the night. If we're not back before noon tomorrow, get worried. Other than that, pack up what we can use from here into the RV and get ready to move. And if you get up in time, you think you could get us more meat?"

"Sure man. Anything else?"

"If you want, you can sleep in here. We should be up and out in less than a hour. The blankets on the windows are keeping the room pretty dark."

"Sounds good. Send our replacements when you're ready."

Rick went back in the room and looked down at the bed. Carl's mouth hung open and one leg dangled over the edge. Judith was now on her back, her arms and legs splayed wide. Michonne was on her stomach at the edge of the bed. The three most important people to him all together. He wanted to climb in the bed with them, hug them all to him.

He had to admit that Michonne was more than just his confidant, his right hand woman. He couldn't deny that he was drawn to her, needed to see her, examine her features, feel her skin, smell her scent. He had no idea how she truly felt about him other than they were close friends. She did allow him to touch her and they fell asleep last night with their fingers entwined. Perhaps he shouldn't overthink it and leave it at that, just enjoy the little things that made the days better and not so bleak.

Rick splashed water on his face in the bathroom and looked out at the stranger staring at him from the mirror. He looked like shit. Wild and unkempt. He searched around in the bathroom drawers until he found a pair of scissors and a comb. He combed through his bushy beard and began trimming the hairs. He half expected to find a critter or two lodged in the tangle as he combed and cut.

"What time do we leave."

Michonne's voice coming out of nowhere made him jump. "Fuck," he said turning to her. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

She smiled softly at him. "You taking it off?"

"As much as I can. I was starting to look like I've been running around the woods looking for my kin," he said with an exaggerated southern accent.

He watched her mouth as she laughed, her head tilting back slightly, her perfect teeth showing. She stopped and turned to the side, as if avoiding looking at him and he became aware he had her locked in a predatory stare. He had started to become conscious of the fact that he would look at her far too long, uncomfortably long, unable to tear his eyes away. At those times he felt rapacious, like a wild cat stalking his prey.

At the house after the prison fell, when he saw her behind the door waiting for entry, he had laughed and told Carl it was for him. But he had needed her too. Her presence instantly brought a warmth to the house they had hunkered down in. She had spent the night worrying after him as he healed from the attack as Carl slept. It was the first time they had ever had together all alone with no interruptions. She had wiped sweat from his brow in the dark as he lay on the sofa, pushing his damp hair back and pressing her hand against his forehead and neck to see how warm he was. She was on first watch that night but he hadn't wanted to sleep, although he was exhausted. He wanted to continue feeling her gentle touches, feeling her body so near. She had leaned over and kissed his forehead and he fought himself to not grab her, move his mouth to hers and feel her soft lips against his. He instead chose to grab her hand and hold it to his chest as he fell asleep.

"I'm gonna get the kids fed and Judith dressed," he said to her now, trying not to stare, "then go search out a car. Pack for an overnight. We might not need it but you never know." He stole another look at her, knowing he had every intention of making the trip last so they had to stay the night together. He wanted just one night alone with her, to see what this was he was feeling, to test the waters and see if she was feeling the same.

He couldn't read the expression on her face. She just stood watching so he turned back to the mirror and finished trimming his beard, starting to feel and look more like himself.

"Do you want me to pack for you?" she asked from behind him.

"That would be a big help. I need..."

"I know, don't worry."

He doubted she really knew what he needed. It was her. Her complete trust, her love, her devotion.

He brushed at his newly trimmed beard with the comb and turned to her. "How do I look?"

Michonne smiled. "Maybe you can get Carol to trim your hair then you'd be good to go."

Rick began sweeping the hair out the sink with his hands and placing it in the trash can. "She'll probably cut my throat before she cuts my hair."

"Don't be like that," Michonne admonished. "Carol really came through for us."

"That she did, but have you taken a good look at her? Carol's cracking. You didn't know her before. She was a mouse and now she's a lion, but one who's backed into a corner and lashing out."

"We all go through it. Give her some time. She'll learn to balance it all out in the end. I did. You did too."

- **oOo** -

Sasha felt a soft stroking on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to a bowl Daryl held out to her. "Breakfast," he mumbled before placing the bowl on the floor and moving back from her to eat.

"Thank you," she sat up and dug into the oatmeal, stealing a glance at him. He kept his head down, intent on focusing on his food. She felt awful for what she did to him. She was so torn about it all. On the one hand she felt so at ease in his company, so appreciative of the attention and care he had given her the night before. But she couldn't fight the real fear that came to her when she thought about continuing what they had started in the prison.

"Are you pitying me Sasha?" Daryl had looked up at her, directly in her eyes. "'Cause I don't need your pity."

"I wish you would just tell me that you hated me," she said, toying with her food, feeling her appetite wane.

"'Cept I don't hate you. I told you that already. We can go back to before that night. Where I pretend you're just my friend and we hang out together."

His voice sounded so bitter and she recoiled from the harshness of it. "Daryl..."

"That came out meaner than I meant. I accept your decision, I don't like it, but I accept it. But you and me, we are friends right? Or did that change too?"

It had changed. She had been naked with him. She had felt his manhood in her mouth, tasted his seed, kissed her essence off his lips and had enjoyed every minute of it.

"I just don't want you to push me all the way away. I want you to let me be there for you and I want us to be able to enjoy each other's company like before."

She stared at him, not knowing what to say. Not wanting to hurt him further. Hating the way she felt. But she knew if pulled away from him completely she would miss him. "That sounds good," she told him before reaching forward to brush his hair from his face.

He grabbed hold of her wrist before she could do it. "Don't," he said.

Sasha nodded, feeling a new pain to go with the others as she pulled her hand back.

"Rick said we could sleep in his room as soon as our replacements come." He noted the questioning look in her eyes. "I'm a man of my word Sasha. I won't try anything."

This was so hard for her. How to balance protecting her heart and protecting his too when both wanted, needed different things right now? She knew, deep down, she should go sleep in a different room but she didn't want to be alone and having him there would be so comforting to her. Would it be selfish to allow him to continue caring for her while she tried to distance herself from her emotions for him?

"Okay," she said and began eating again. "You wanna rock, paper, scissors for the bed?" She offered him a smile that faded when she saw the sad look on his face.

"Nah. You take the bed." He got up and went to window and smoked.

The minutes ticked by slowly as they waited in silence. Sasha went back to her post and looked down on the empty street, lost in thought. Or more precisely, thinking too many thoughts going in too many directions for her to comprehend.

There were footsteps on the stairs and Noah and Rosita came up.

"We're taking over," Rosita said. "Rick says the room should be clear in a little while."

Sasha turned to her and beckoned her over. She pointed out the tall house in the distance and told Rosita to aim there if walkers get to be too many. Rosita nodded and took her post while Noah went and stood by Daryl.

Noah was another person Sasha had hurt when she told him, coldly, that he wasn't going to make it. Guilt upon guilt stacked up on her.

When Michonne called that Rick's room was free they trudged down the steps and headed for the darkened room. Sasha removed her shoes and climbed into the bed while Daryl lay his sleeping bag down the floor and got on top of it. She passed him a pillow which he took before laying down and turning his back to her.

Sasha did the same, laying on her side not facing him, feeling more tears well up as she closed her eyes and imagined him in the bed with her, wrapped around her, kissing her lips. Those thoughts were pushed out by thoughts of him dead and her aching for her loss.

- **oOo** -

"I grab them and you stab them in the eye."

Father Gabriel had insisted for some reason to stick to Carol after helping her clean up the breakfast dishes. He had then followed her around like an eager puppy as she doled out assignments to everyone else.

There had been a few walkers gathered around the fence, possibly drawn the scent of the cooking food or the smell of freshly washed living bodies. They needed to be taken down lest they draw more.

"I've...I've never," Father Gabriel said to her in a tentative voice.

"Well you better learn." Carol had no patience for his weakness. There were things that needed to be done and he had better learn to do them. Weakness and hesitation got you killed. They had buried enough people, no need to add this man to list. Not now at any rate.

She was sweating under the too large leather jacket she had found in the hall closet. Her hands felt hot inside the gardening gloves she wore. Father Gabriel had on dishwashing gloves and held a long ice pick in his shaking hands.

There were six walkers in all, all in a rapid state of decay. In the deserted town, the group must have been the first chance at food they had had in a long time. They reached through the iron bars that stood on top of the brick wall with rotten hands that ended in claws that once were fingers.

"If we don't put them down they will draw others. Also, their scent will help to mask our own. So when I grab them and pull them close, you put that thing through their eyes and pierce their brains. You understand?" Carols voice was stern and she spoke to the priest like he was a child. He reminded her of a child at this moment, all timid and fearful. Her lips curled up at him in disgust.

Father Gabriel nodded and moved to stand next to her. "I can do this," he said through rapid breaths. "I'm ready."

Carol grabbed a pair of hands and pulled the creature towards her. Its face pressed close to the bars, rotted teeth chomped at her, gnashing between low growls. White eyes looking in her direction as the other walkers began to get frenzied.

Father Gabriel held the pick up to one of the milky eyes, his hands shaking furiously, and pushed it through slowly. The squelching sound and burst of blood from the eye getting to him as he pulled it out. Carol almost chuckled at the expression on his face as his cheeks puffed in and out and his mouth twisted. The priest stepped back, turned his head to the side and vomited all over the grass. Carol rolled her eyes.

"Ready to go again?"

Gabriel's eyes were wide when he faced her and she did laugh this time. It was the best full bodied laugh Carol had experienced in a very long time. But beneath her sudden mirth she felt somewhat sorry for laughing at him, and right in his face.

"This world has no patience for weak men Father. You have to at least be willing to kill the walkers or you put yourself in danger. You put us in danger."

"Gabriel," he said as he wiped his mouth.

"What?"

"Call me Gabriel." He walked back to her and took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm ready."

Carol grabbed the next one and pulled it close.

- **oOo** -

The closest city to where the house they had found shelter in consisted of a few blocks of low rise buildings. It was more a town than city. Strip malls were everywhere with mom and pop shops and few chain stores. There was a three story bank they had passed, the tallest building so far. They had made note of it but kept looking for something better.

"You notice anything?" Michonne asked as she looked around out the window. Rick turned to her but said nothing. "Hardley any walkers."

She was right. They had only passed a dozen or so on their ride out, speeding up and turning corners so they wouldn't be able to follow them.

"Must have evacuated to the capitol. Isn't that what happened in Georgia?"

Michonne nodded. "They were telling people to make it to the major cities, bring only the essentials, to get to the military encampments until they got a handle on things. Then they dropped Napalm when everything went to shit."

"Bad for them, good for us," Rick said absentmindedly. "Most of the places we saw look to be intact. That's a lot of supplies for us. Less walkers and people mean less danger on runs." He turned down another street to more low rise buildings, frustrated that nothing seemed to meet even one criteria for them.

"So far it seems like the bank," Michonne spoke from beside him. "Not at the top of my list but...," she didn't finish.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Keep it at the back of your mind but I don't like it. Who knows though, it could work out and we'd be close to scavenging sites."

Michonne thought about it and shook her head. "We need to find something close to a water source. We also have to think about winter. It gets cold here, we need someplace where we could burn wood to keep warm. Also food sources. We'll need something other than canned food."

Rick smiled. This is why he wanted her here. She could think of the bigger picture beyond basic shelter. He had been right. One voice was better than having multiple opinions on this. Right now they would all be arguing about whether or not to go back to the bank.

Michonne gathered her hair in her hands and lifted it off her neck and wiped at the sweat that had begun to form there with a wash cloth she had taken from the house. As she patted the side closest to Rick she felt him take a corner of the cloth and dab it near her ears before trailing his finger lightly along her neck. She shivered and without thought tilted her head towards where he was ghosting her skin. She took the chance to turn slightly and look at him and he met her eyes, his burning bright before turning away to watch the road ahead, his fingers lightly pinching her earlobe then letting go to grab the wheel.

"Shit," Rick said. "Hold on."

Ahead, walking slowly towards them, were about a dozen walkers. The walkers perked up when they saw the car and picked up their pace. Rick stopped the car abruptly and began to drive in reverse, stopping again, shifting gears and turning down a corner. He moved slowly until the walkers also came through the corner shuffling towards them, then sped off, turning another corner and quickly making it back to where they had been.

"Wait," Michonne said. "Go back down that corner."

"You see something?" Rick reversed and went back from where they had come from.

"Over there," she pointed past the trees of woods to a building whose rooftop poked above the treetops. "There's a high wall on the roof, we can put lookouts up there and they can remain relatively hidden." she turned to Rick smiling.

"Hopefully we can find a way there from here." He drove on, keeping the building in his sight, trying to figure out the best way to reach it.

"That's the place Rick. I can feel it."

"I never figured you for an optimist Michonne."

"I used to be, once upon a time. I used to be a lot things."

Her mouth turned down and a far away look glazed her eyes over. Rick realised that he didn't know anything about her from before. Who had she been before the fall of the world? What kind of woman had she been, what had she valued in her life? Who had she lost?

"I would like to know all about that," Rick stole a glance at her. "All those things you used to be."

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"It does to me. I don't even know your last name."

Michonne smiled at him slightly. She hadn't said her last name out loud for so long. "Collier," she answered. It felt strange on her tongue. "Michonne Collier."

"Well Mrs. Collier, I'd like nothing more than to learn all about you."

Michonne could feel his eyes boring into her. She smirked and rolled her eyes his way, taking in his serious face that waited for her reply. "Its Ms."

Rick smiled, "and so it is."

- **oOo** -

Daryl's footsteps were light on the ground as he stalked through the woods. Carol's foot falls were heavier but she was as silent as she could be as she followed behind him. The bag on his shoulder held four squirrels already, but he wanted to get a few more. Father Gabriel had a recipe for stew and he wanted it as full of meat as possible.

Carol had followed him over the wall at the back of the house which butted up against the woods. So far she had followed his instruction about remaining quiet until he said otherwise. She had even put down a few walkers so he didn't need to use his cocked arrows on them.

He quickly bagged three more squirrels. "That should be enough," he looked back to see Carol looking around, keeping watch over them.

"There's a house over there," she told him pointing.

Through the dense foliage of the woods he spied the outline of a cabin.

"We should check it out," she began to walk in that direction, bending down and moving slowly.

They stood behind some trees a distance away watching the small cabin. It was surrounded with spikes impaled into the ground to snag walkers. There was no movement in the cabin, the windows were covered with what looked like newspapers.

"How long do you want to wait?"

"A while," Daryl answered. "See if people come back or if something inside moves." He crouched down, looked behind them briefly then looked back at the cabin. Carol crouched next to him.

"See you been hanging with the priest," Daryl said.

"He insists on making himself useful. I hate to say it but I get some kind of...pleasure bossing him around."

Daryl smirked at her, noting the slight twinkle in her eyes. "You turning into a mean girl now?"

"I guess I am," she said proudly. "I guess I like being the one in charge, having some control."

"That what you need? Control?"

Carol stabbed her machete into the ground. "Most of my life I was under someone else's control. My dad, my husband, the dead. So yeah, I guess I like having some part of my life where I make the shots. Where I say what goes and how it goes. Sure it was only dishes and organizing packing up the house but I chose how it went and people listened."

She looked angry again, digging her weapon into the dirt. Her statement explained so much to him. Her need to constantly prove herself, the decisions she had made back in the prison. Organizing the meals then shying away from the compliments. Taking charge of the children and secretly teaching them to fight, to make for the loss of Sophia.

"You know," he rested his hand on hers, stopping her from pushing her machete further in the dirt. "Those things, cooking, cleaning, organizing the pack up, are important." Carol glared at him. "They are. We can't spend all our days fighting. We need to feel human sometimes too. Eating a hot meal does that. Having supplies does that. Wearing clean clothes does that. Makes us want to keep living. Gives us something to fight for."

Carol stood up, not looking at him. "Its been long enough, let's take a look."

The cabin door stood slightly ajar. The stairs creaked softly as they walked up them. The closer they got, the more they smelled the stench of death. Daryl stomped on the stairs and they waited to see if anything came to the door. There was nothing but silence and the rustle of leaves. At the door they heard the buzzing and as they opened it a black cloud lifted up and swirled. The place was covered in flies. The swarm settled back on the bodies lying sprawled on the floor. Daryl covered his mouth and moved inside, Carol remained by the door.

There were three bodies. A man, woman and child. The broken end of a broom or mop handle protruded from the chest of the man. The other half lodged in his eyes. The other two had gaping wounds in their faces. Their skin was peeling away, the bodies bloated, the faces unrecognizable.

"Someone did this to them." Daryl looked around for things they could use but saw nothing of value. "I'm no forensic scientist but I doubt this was done too long ago. With this heat, could be as little as three or four days." He stepped back outside. "We need to get back. We can stay one more night but no longer. Gonna have to step up security too. It's not safe here."

- **oOo** -

Sasha woke up alone and sweating in the dark room. She washed her face and underarms and rubbed her teeth with toothpaste on a damp washcloth. She saw Carl rummaging around a room gathering supplies as she walked to the stairs. In the livingroom sat Maggie with Judith on her lap.

"Thought you were going on a run," Sasha sat next to her and made a funny face at Judith who gurgled at her.

"Decided to stay behind. Glenn and Abraham will be fine. Wanted to be with Judith," she said kissing the girl's fat cheeks. "Makes me feel better."

"Yeah, all her stresses are simple. Dry diaper, full belly, warm bodies to be held against," Sasha said.

"If only we all had it so good." She looked over at Sasha. "How are you doing today?"

"Better. Cried a lot last night."

Maggie hugged Judith to her, "with Daryl?" She gave Sasha a cautious look. "I saw ya'll holding hands in the boxcar." A small smile played on the edges of Maggie's mouth.

Sasha might have smiled shyly at Maggie if she hadn't felt so conflicted about Daryl. "I...I really hurt him," Sasha mumbled out. "I just don't know how to allow myself to...," Sasha paused. "I told him I didn't want to have a relationship with him. I'm afraid of the pain I'd feel if I started to love him and I lost him."

Sasha placed her finger in Judith's hand who gripped it tightly. "I also feel empty inside. I can't say I'll be able to feel more for him. For anyone."

"He'll understand, eventually I suppose. Just don't be mean to him or too harsh with him. He's more sensitive than he puts on." Maggie patted Sasha's knee. "But you have your own needs too. Adjusting to losing your brother and learning to find new hope now. He's gonna have to allow that for you."

Father Gabriel walked by on his way to the kitchen with a full suitcase.

"I made lunch," he said to Sasha. "It's not hot anymore but still fairly warm." He disappeared around the corner.

"It was good. Fried rice and vegetables," Maggie said to her, lifting Judith up and smelling at her diaper. "Would it be wrong if I got Carl to change her?"

Sasha smiled. "Yes Maggie. He's busy gathering supplies. I'll help you though."

"No, you go get some food and help pack up. Carol would be pissed if this place wasn't stripped when she got back."

Bed linens, clothes, pots and pans not going to be used for cooking that night, cleaning supplies, tools, toiletries, everything was packed up, Stored in boxes and suitcases and dresser drawers and stacking it all in the bedroom of the RV. They began filling bottles and jugs with water also.

When done they all sat in the living room playing with Judith who crawled between them, chewing on them, climbing on them and at one point testing her teeth out on Carl who yelped loudly as his sister laughed at the pain she caused him.

Carol came into the room from the kitchen where the door to the garage was.

"Are you finished packing?" she asked, a frantic look on her face.

"What's wrong?" Sasha asked, getting fearful from Carol's agitated state.

"We came across a murdered family in the woods. Something bad is out there. I want to be ready to leave a soon as Rick gets back. Maybe sooner if we have to."

"What?" Maggie stood up. "Should we leave now?"

"I think we can wait the night, but we're gonna need to keep watch on the back of the house. Daryl says if they come, they'll come from that direction. Are Abe and Glenn back?"

Maggie shook her head and looked towards the front door, worried.

"They're fine Maggie. They'll be back soon. I'm going to head upstair and let Noah and Rosita know and help them keep watch. Sasha, you, Daryl and Carl can get second shift and Abraham, Glenn and Maggie can take it until morning. Everyone sleeps upstairs tonight and we block the stairs and set up alarms." Carol then took off upstairs.

They all stared, shocked, at one another. They were always running, always fearful, always on high alert. Carl grabbed Judith and held her on his lap while the rest of them sat silent. Maggie then got up and went to upstairs mumbling about keeping an eye out for Glenn.

- **oOo** -

Daryl pulled the innards of the squirrel out and placed them in an old plastic bowl. He stripped the skin off the flesh and tossed it in a bucket of water and set the meat to the side. He thought about dumping the innards on the outside of the wall at the woods to attract walkers. A sure sign someone was coming for them was to have them killing the walkers that they lured there.

The door to the house opened and he watched Sasha step into the room. She scanned the area, her eyes finally falling on him as he continued to work with the squirrels. He didn't want to look at her but he was unable to help himself.

"Do you think the RV could fit in here?" she asked looking up the ceiling.

Daryl stopped what he was doing and also gave a visual calculation at the height of the garage. "Doubt it. I say we turn it around facing the gate and pray we make it inside in time."

"We might. Maggie and Father Gabriel are watching both sides of the house from the bedrooms, making sure nothing sneaks up on us."

Daryl didn't respond. He grabbed another squirrel and slapped it on the work bench and began cutting it down the middle.

"Do you need help with that?"

He gave her a glare and her eyes dropped to the ground. He was trying not to be angry with her, not to lash out and allow his hurt to destroy the friendship they had developed over the last year.

"Sure," he said gently. "See those heads there," he pointed to them. "You can empty those skulls and drop their brains in the pot. When you're done, you can put half a cup of water for each brain and set it to boil."

"You eat squirrel brain?" Sasha whispered out in horror and Daryl roared with laughter.

"What kind of mountain man do you think I am Sasha? I'm using them to tan these skins. Gonna start saving them up to make me a winter cloak. But I'll have you know, squirrel brains are a delicacy around some parts," he looked over at her and winked.

Sasha smiled wide, her perfect teeth showing, softening her face and making him yearn to be able to watch her smile always. He felt her move beside him and she picked up the small skinless head. He handed her a spoon and she grimaced as she took it and began working the brains out, one by one, and placing them in the pot.

"Even their little brains are cute," Sasha remarked, waiting for him to give her the head of the one he was skinning.

As he handed her the last head he started removing the hides from the water in the bucket and began laying them on a flat board. He turned to see her watching him and gave her a soft smile.

"Will you teach me to do that?" she asked almost shyly.

"What? This?" He looked around at the animal guts and soaking skins and meat. "This is hillbilly shit."

"No, its useful shit. Important shit. Will you teach me?"

He looked at her, at the earnest and interested look on her face. He didn't want to like or appreciate the way she always made him feel special, like he was better than he was. Yet he did, he cherished the feeling. He turned back to his skins lined up on the board and nodded his head.

"Hurry up and get those brains boiling and I'll show you the rest. Bring a flat edge knife back with you."

When she got back he began to explain why and how to scrape the flesh off the hides. She listened to him intently and her large eyes watched him demonstrate before she slowly began to follow his instructions.

"You really gonna make a coat from squirrels?" Sasha moved slowly scraping the hide while Daryl inspected.

"Scoff now but you're gonna be jealous when I have my squirrel fur coat."

Sasha laughed, "you gonna get a pimp hat and stacked boots?"

"And a fly green suit. I'mma look damn good too." Sasha chuckled and shook her head. "Be careful. Don't rip my skin." Daryl admonished gently. He moved next to her and took hold of her hand, showing her how to do the correct motion. "Like this."

It almost felt like how they were before. In easy conversation while he longed for her. Except he held the knowledge at the back of his mind that he had had her, all of her. But he couldn't have her now. Maybe never again.

He studied the side of her face as she worked, the way the muscles of her long graceful neck moving as she swallowed, the way her chin jutted out, how perfect her lips were. He could smell the faint trace of sweat coming from her and realised he must have smelled like hell but she never gave any indication.

She looked over at him and took a slight step back and he was forced from his thoughts. Ashamed at how desperate he must seem to her.

"You should check on that water," he said, moving back from her himself. "Bring it back out here and we can move on."

"Yeah," her voice was low, almost sad.

He forced himself not to watch as she walked away


	4. Just One Night

**A/N: I apologize for the long delay. This chapter is all Richonne. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

 **Just One Night**

What's it gonna be 'cause I can't pretend  
Don't you want to be more than friends  
Hold me tight and don't let go  
Don't let go  
You have the right to lose control  
Don't let go  
 **"Don't Let Go"  
** **En Vogue**

- **oOo** -

Michonne knew instantly that this was it. The apartment complex stood on a hill behind a fenced in parking lot. The tall rods of the aluminum fence would not be much good against the living, but the dead would not be able to breach it. The building stood six stories high not including the ground floor. All brick, each floor with eight large windows across the span of each side.

The building allowed for a good line of sight of anything coming their way as nothing but the apartment building was there, surrounded by a sloping field that lead into the woods. The road they drove up led to the rest of the subdivision and the other buildings were no higher than three stories and gave no real cover for anyone who would want to hide in them.

Rick and Michonne stood on top of their car outside the fence. There was no movement in the parking lot or within the glassed encased lobby. Everything around them was still. It was almost eerie the way nothing moved, not even the leaves in the trees.

"Looks like there's an inner courtyard," Rick said in a low voice, scanning the area through the scope of his rifle. He got down off the roof of the car and popped the trunk. He came out with a tyre iron and climbed back up next to her. "You ready?"

"Yeah," she said removing her pack off her back and tossing it over the fence. She pulled herself on the rail of the fence before dropping to the otherside. She kept low, moving quickly to the glass of the lobby and looking in.

Rick came up next to her and she pointed. "Looks like a door to the stairwell is open."

"How do you want to do this?" He asked, his eyes trying to see if there was any movement behind the small gap in the stairwell door.

"I say sweep the floors, make sure no walkers are lurking and then see inside one of the units. If there are walkers behind closed doors, we leave them for now."

Rick looked down at her, "okay. Let's do this."

They walked around to the back of the building. The doors there were solid, not glass like the ones to the front and had a key code entrance, probably only for residents. Rick used the tyre iron to pry open the door, effectively breaking the lock. At this entrance they were greeted by a glass wall with an automatic sliding door in the center, looking out to the inner courtyard with an elevator on either side. Through the glass they could see a garden and barbecue pit and what looked like a pool.

In both corners of the wing were two doors. One was to a stairwell and the other led to the front area of the building. They checked the stairwell doors, both of which were locked before going to pry open the door to the front lobby area.

No sound could be heard within the building as they crept through the lobby. They checked the reception desk once they made it to the front. The long dark wood desk was layered in dust. On the wall behind it were slots for packages that stood almost floor to ceiling and ran the the entire length of the wall. The desk itself held monitor screens and two keyboards and in a space underneath was a key holder. Rick removed all the keys hanging there and pocketed them.

He pulled out a flashlight once they reached the open stairwell door and lit the area as they walked up it, their footsteps echoing loudly on the tile of the steps. Slowly opening the door to the first floor they were greeted by a bright hallway. The windows they saw from the ground were lined along the hall, each one opposite the front door of a unit.

Rick walked up to a door and knocked on it and waited. Nothing. They walked all the way around the four wings of the floor, knocking periodically on doors and only getting a few signs of walkers on the other side.

They moved up to the second floor. The door there was already ajar and Michonne tensed. They could hear the moans of walkers in the distance as they step through into the hall.

Rick moved to walk towards the sound but Michonne reached out and stopped him. She banged on the wall and they waited. Two walkers rounded the corner and came shuffling towards them. The walkers moved slowly, as if each step they took was a struggle. They were down to thin stretches of skin over bone. One of them stained the wall with blackened blood as it dragged its hand along it. Then came the sound of third walker coming from the other direction.

"I'll get these two, you get that one," Rick said walking up to meet the two walkers.

Michonne turned as the creature behind her stumbled closer. Moving forward, she lifted her sword high above her head, bringing it down swiftly, slicing into the skull as Rick beat the tyre iron into the other two.

"Keep close, there could be more," Rick whispered as they pushed forward along the second floor. There were more sounds of walkers, but nothing sounded like it was moving closer. As they turned the corner to the next wing they heard scratching against two of the unit doors. They continued walking and passed an open doorway and stopped abruptly before quickly moving away and pressing their bodies against the wall in the hallway.

There was the rasping sound of a walker inside the open unit and they saw the long shadow of something moving inside dancing along the wall. Rick leaned forward and peeked inside. "Jesus," he whispered out as he stepped directly in front of the door.

Michonne joined him and the scene inside the unit made her shoulders slump. The horror that had occurred in the apartment splattered the walls and pooled out onto the floors. It cumulated in the mess of innards hanging out the severed upper body of a young boy who gripped at the ground with the only arm he had left, the rest of his body ripped off below the abdomen. The bones of his torn off limbs, devoid of flesh, were scattered in different areas of the living room.

She couldn't stand to look at it but she knew she would not feel right unless she put him out of his misery. Pushing Rick aside she stalked into the room and slammed the tip of her blade into the boy's skull.

Rick closed the door to the apartment as she walked out and scraped a mark into the door, so they would know that apartment was not to be entered. Possibly never again.

- **oOo** -

"Look at that view," Rick said as they stood on the roof the apartment building. They could see over the nearby woods to the town. A river ran along a winding path below the hill at the back of the building, disappearing into the woods. Across a wooden foot bridge that spanned the river was small apartment building.

"We might have to search it," Rick said of the apartment. "Maybe set up a secondary compound." He leaned against the wall of the roof that came up to his waist.

"Not too many walkers in here. I counted maybe ten units," Michonne was looking down at the courtyard in the centre of the complex. "We could set up barrels to catch rain water up here, a garden in the courtyard. The wall up here is high enough guards could easily go unnoticed." She moved over to another area of the rooftop. "And look, chimneys." she tapped on one, smiling broadly.

"This was a good find Michonne. We could put down roots here for sure. Give ourselves time to find a permanent place to build a new community." He stared at her, moving closer to where she stood and gently placed a hand on her wrist. "What are you thinking?"

"Figuring out how to fortify this place. We should block the doors at the bottom of the stairwells. And only sleep on the sixth floor." He was nodding, listening to her. He wasn't going to say anything, she knew, not until she finished. She thought some more as the wheels worked. "The lobby will have to be secured. All that glass."

"We passed a hardware store. I think we should hit it on our way back here."

She nodded. "We won't have time to plant. We'll need enough food to make it through winter."

She looked over at Rick, studying his face as he scanned the horizon. His gait was casual as he loosely gripped the tyre iron, blood caking the pointed tip.

"Its pretty clear out there," Rick said. "We should try to find some large pots or containers, make a trek to the river so we can get some water to bathe tonight."

"It's not that late," Michonne looked at the sun that sat high in the sky. "Not much more to do here other than see what the apartments look like. You think we really need to stay the entire night?"

He stared at her, his eyes boring into her, silently examining her with such an intensity that she suddenly felt exposed under his gaze and to compensate she wrapped her arms around herself. Rick turned away from her and looked back over the city. She watched him for a moment. She knew exactly why he wanted to stay the entire night. All the looks they exchanged, the touching, sleeping in the same rooms the night before. Was it reckless, selfish for them to take any time for themselves? Weren't she and Rick suppose to forgo any wants and desires for the safety of the group?

Michonne stepped next to him and also looked out over the distance, at the large swath of trees dotted every so often with the tops of buildings. "It's strange," she said softly. "How beautiful the world seems now. From far away you almost forget why it's so quiet and unmoving. Even the decay carries a kind of allure, before the dead come to remind you that it's that way because of something horrible that's entered the world."

She could feel Rick move close behind her. "I can see what you mean," he spoke as softly as she had. "Before, this is what you hoped for. The peace, the silence, nothing moving. Sometimes you can forget that all of it came with a price."

His finger lightly trailed down the back of her neck to the collar of her shirt. "I just want one night Michonne," he was so close that his hot breath bathed over her. "One night alone to get to know you."

Goose pimples puckered Michonne's skin and she nodded. She listened to Rick walk away. The idea of being alone with him excited her but she had no idea of what it was that was going to take place. She had no idea what she wanted to take place. She would just have to follow her gut instinct when the time came and hoped that nothing happened that would change the dynamic between she and Rick, at least not for the worst.

- **oOo** -

Rick tried the all the keys on the door of the unit situated near the stairwell of the sixth floor. None of them worked. He bent down and tried to pick the lock and cursed loudly as he failed repeatedly.

"You'd think I'd be better at this," he mumbled as he stood up and wedged the pointed end of tyre iron in the door and worked it until the door pulled away from the jamb and opened. He looked back at Michonne who leaned patiently against the wall behind him, a slight smirk on her face. "If anyone asks, it was always like that."

"You're gonna have to pay big for that secret." She moved past him into the unit and looked around.

The apartment opened up to small modern galley kitchen to their right which led to a small dining area and a large living area directly before that. Michonne walked to open the thick curtains hanging along the living room wall opposite the front door, letting in light from the sliding doors that led to the large balcony.

"I think the bedrooms are down there," Rick pointed to the hallway on the left of the front door. He walked into the kitchen and tried the faucet. "Water's working, pump must have a battery back up. We should get some pots and fill them up. If there's a tub, we should clean it and fill it up too."

Michonne stared at the dead plants on the balcony, brown withered leaves around the base of their pots. She scanned the other balconies across the courtyard noting the patio tables, more dead plants, and grills. Through the glass of the patio door one floor below she watched a walker circle the living room, bumping into the furniture and biting at the air.

"There's a grill across the way," Michonne said to Rick as he filled a large pot with water. "We should get it to boil the water."

"Maybe I'll have better luck picking that lock," Rick turned smiling at her.

"I'll see what's left in the bedrooms. If you're able to pick that lock, I guess we'll move over there."

The first bedroom Michonne entered was small and used as a music room. There were guitars on holders, a keyboard and recording equipment. In the master she went through the drawers. A couple had lived here. She pulled out t-shirts for her and Rick and sweatpants for him. The woman there had nothing comfortable to wear, no sweatpants or shorts. There was, however, an entire drawer filled with neglige, all silk and lace.

She pulled out a nightgown and rubbed the fabric against her skin. It had been so long since she wore anything nice and feminine. She began laying the pieces on the bed, getting lost in the idea of having the luxury to wear such things to bed instead of street clothes in order to be ready to run in the night if necessary.

She held a negligee up to her body in front of the mirror, pulling the sides taught against her waist. The black lace didn't leave much to the imagination and would cling tightly to the body, holding all of her curves. Michonne sighed and tossed the garment back on the bed before searching through the other drawers and pulling out another pair of sweatpants for herself. She looked through the closets and took a shirt and a pair of jeans for herself. Most of the other women's clothing were dresses.

The man who lived there was a beard enthusiast. In the master bath she found many products for beards. Balms, lotions, oils, shampoos, natural shave soaps and best of all, a collection of straight razors and a leather strop to sharpen them.

There was a silk kimono hanging on the hook on the back of the bathroom door and she decided to take it. She looked through the linen closet and collected laundry detergent, a battery operated lantern, and towels. There was a laundry basket still full of dirty clothes which she emptied out and put her newfound supplies in.

She was back in the kitchen filling the pots with water when Rick walked in. "Looks like we're moving to the other unit," a proud look was on his face. "Definitely cozier than this place but it looks like old ladies lived there. I'm gonna to see if there are any clothes I could use here."

In the bedroom Rick noticed all the lingerie on the bed and his pulse quickened. Was this what she wore in her old life? Did she like the feel of the soft silk caressing her skin as it clung tightly to her? He wondered if she had taken one of the many garments and if he'd get to see her in it. He looked over them and grabbed a few that he thought would look good on her and stuffed them into a pillow case before going through the drawers and closet. The man who lived there was taller than Rick but he took some shirts for himself as well as socks. He walked back out to Michonne and slung the pillowcase in the basket.

"You get set up over there," he told her, going to grab a pot full of water. "I'll bring the water over."

- **oOo** -

Rick leaned back against Michonne's stomach as she lathered his face with shaving soap. "You sure you know how to do this?" he asked as she picked up the straight razor and began to bring it to his face. The scent of what she bathed with engulfed him. It was sweet with a hint of musk that was warm, soothing, and alluring. Every time the scent hit him anew he wanted to moan in appreciation of it or pull her closer so he could gather the scent directly off her skin by pressing his nose against her.

"I'm sure. Just don't make any sudden moves." She held him gingerly under his chin and pulled the blade along his neck slowly. She wiped the blade against a towel and went back to his neck.

They were at the dining table that was covered with a lace cloth and topped with a bowl of plastic fruit. On the balcony two pots of water boiled on the grill. The kitchen counter was filled with cooling pots of water Rick had boiled while Michonne bathed.

"You've done this before." He relaxed now, enjoying the gentle touch of her fingers on his face and soothing scrape of the blade against his skin.

"A few times. My grandmother showed me how to shave granddad," Michonne turned his head to the side and shaved along his cheek. "I tried shaving Mike once, but he had no faith in me at all," she smiled.

"Who's Mike?"

Michonne wiped the blade again. "My boyfriend." She placed the blade against him once more. "Well, partner really. We were too modern to get married. It was antiquated and we didn't need it to prove our love and commitment to one another."

Rick tilted his head further back so he could get a look at her. "The one you used to talk to?"

Michonne nodded. "Don't move or you may get nicked."

"Duly noted," Rick stated, feeling more curious about her. "And you really believed all that about marriage?"

"On some days, yes," she smiled a little.

"Were you together long?"

"Almost seven years."

"And you lived in Atlanta?"

"Midtown."

"What did you do for a living? You and Mike?"

"I was a corporate lawyer. Mike worked in finance."

"So ya'll were rich?"

Michonne chuckled, "We both made six figures." She tilted his head to the other side.

Rick let out a low whistle. "What kind of car did you drive?"

Michonne stopped shaving and looked down at him. "Does it really matter? All that is gone now."

"I just want to know about you. I'm sorry if I upset you."

"I'm not upset. It just feels like I'm telling you about someone else."

Rick nodded and tilted his head back once more so she could continue shaving him. He hadn't given thought to the fact that her past life might have been something she would want to forget. Maybe remembering her past would remind her too much of all she had lost. He closed his eyes, trying to relax again but couldn't. He had miscalculated how tonight was going to go. Perhaps this was the way it was supposed to go. They weren't meant to connect to one another, they weren't meant to become closer than they already were. She was to be nothing more than a woman he deeply respected, admired, and lead their group with.

"An Audi," Michonne said. Rick's eyes opened and tried to see her behind him. "I drove a silver Audi. I wore expensive shoes. I had expensive bags and drank expensive wines. I went to art shows and the theatre and travelled and ate at nice restaurants and had long conversations with my friends. Sometimes I miss it. Sometimes I think my life was bullshit."

"Your bullshit sounds kinda nice," Rick chuckled. "I went to plays held in an elementary school auditorium where kids screamed out their lines and stomped their feet in frustration or outright cried on stage. A nice dinner was at the Olive Garden. We drank wine, mostly out of boxes, sometimes with a nice screw top. One time we broke the cork on a twenty dollar bottle we had splurged on and had to strain it into a tupperware bowl before drinking." He smiled broadly at the memory. Lori had put Carl to bed early that night and they sat drinking their wine in the cheap blue glasses she purchased at a yard sale and ate gouda cheese on Ritz crackers while watching Die Hard 1, 2 and 3. That had been one of the best date nights they'd had.

"Do you think we would have been friends before?"

"Stop talking," she tilted his head further back and lifted his nose and began to shave his upper lip. "And no. I don't think we would have been friends."

- **oOo** -

"You're staring again," Rick said around a mouthful of string beans as they sat on the couch in the unit.

Michonne tried to suppress a smile and failed. She turned her gaze from him and shrugged. "You just look so...," damn good, "...different."

"You're making me self-conscious." He stroked his face. "Did I really look that bad before?" He took her plate from her and placed it in the kitchen.

They had spent the last few hours washing clothes, placing blankets over the windows in the bedrooms, and securing the doors to the stairwells. All the while they spoke about before. How he met Lori, how she got into law, their favorite foods, their childhood. Life had almost felt normal again. It was both nice and sad. Unfortunately what had once been normal would never be again. Normal now consisted of killing those who were already dead, fighting the living, hoping for a permanent place to call home, always being on high alert.

Today, though, they had let their guard down. She had bathed in a tub of hot water, soaking in it for a while, her head tilted against the back of the tub, using a fizzy bath bomb she had found in the bathroom, before shaving for the first time in almost a month. For the brief stretch of time that she had lain in the tub she felt human again. For so long she had felt like nothing more than a killing machine. A refugee of the burned world. She had acclimatised to the new reality, living rough, fighting hard, killing. But she would be lying if she said she didn't still long for something resembling what there was in the past. A safe haven in a real home, not a prison cell, not a deer freezer, and certainly not on the ground under a tree out in the open.

She looked over as Rick made his way back to the couch. A man in her life would also be something she could see herself enjoying again without worry that it would distract her from surviving.

She smiled at him as he sat down. Damn it he was so handsome and they way he looked at her and always made his presence known was enticing. She could almost still feel his breath on the back of her neck and it sent a stark shiver racing up her spine.

He was staring her, contemplating, his eyebrows knitted and he eyes unwavering. "You really think we wouldn't have been friends?"

"You think we would have?"

"We're friends now."

Michonne smiled at him. "We are. But back then, the surface stuff would have gotten in the way of us knowing each other. All of us, if you really think about it. I can't say any of us would have been friends, given each other a chance, before."

He nodded and she watched him slouch against the couch, his head resting on the back. "You never talk about him."

"Talk about who?"

"Mike. In all this time the most you've told me is that you use to talk to him in your head." He wasn't looking at her anymore. As if he couldn't face her as she spoke of the man she had once loved.

"Mike was," she tried to think of the positives but her mind swirled to the night she came back from her run. "Fun and funny. He liked lazy Sundays in bed. He loved playing air sax to jazz albums. You couldn't tell him nothing when he was in the zone." She laughed. "He was kind and understanding and he always supported me." She frowned a little as more memories, the ones she hadn't allowed herself to think of, came to her. "He was so scared when this all happened. We stayed in our apartment for over a week, ignoring the sounds outside, watching the chaos unfolding in the street. Listening to our neighbours being attacked. Ignoring the cries for help."

It was all coming back to her. How she had to force Mike and Terry to leave their home or they would starve. The anger Mike had towards her because she didn't get bogged down in her fear. How emasculated he felt when she made him carry Andre while she fought the dead with her sword. "He lost it when we found this camp of other survivors. He couldn't find the will to fight. He could barely...," she paused and shook her head. "I guess you didn't expect me to talk about the bad things."

"Did I remind you of him? When you met me I was having a breakdown. I was irrational and mean and not keeping things together."

Her eyes snapped in his direction and there was real anger in them, black pools of rage. "You're nothing like Mike. Even at your lowest point you fought, you did what had to be done to keep your family safe. You fight daily for your kids. Mike couldn't do that. The Mike I use to speak to was the Mike from before. The Mike after, I hated. He had turned to drugs. I never even knew because I was busy doing what had to be done to feed us. He never once thought about Andre, never once put Andre ahead of his fears. And I trusted him to at least do that."

There was a deafening silence when she finished. Her head was down and she fiddled with the cord around the sweatpants she wore that were three or four sizes too big.

"Who's Andre?" Rick's voice came softly, a near whisper. He reached out and touched her hand. "Who's Andre Michonne?"

She didn't have to answer. The smile she tried to give him was anguished. Her eyes burned from the forming tears thinking about her baby boy. He inhaled deeply and moved closer, wrapping his arms around her and it felt so comforting. She let go and allowed herself to cry for the first time in a long time for her little boy. She took the comfort he offered. The warmth of him pressed up against her, the soft way he kept repeating that he was sorry, the fact that he knew she had lost her child and she didn't have to say the words out loud. It all made the pain bearable to her.

- **oOo** -

He stood at the doorway of the balcony watching her as she leaned against the railing looking down on the courtyard.

He was seeing her so differently now. Michonne was a mother who went through her loss alone in the wilderness with no one there to have her back while she survived. And yet through all that, she had been able to open herself up again. She had continued to fight for her survival. He wondered if she had had a secret hope, a yearning for a new family. If that was the reason she hadn't simply given up.

Whatever it was he had been feeling for her before, he felt it stronger than ever now. But now was not the time to act on it. How could he, after holding her while she cried for her dead son. There was no romance to be had from her mourning. He had accomplished one thing though, he had learned more about her, about her past, about who she once was. That would have to be enough for now. And in a way, it was. He felt closer to her. She was no longer a mystery, a woman with a katana. She had a name, a past, a deep loss, and a well of hope in her so vast he found it amazing.

When he thought Judith was lost, it was Carl who kept him going. If he had then lost Carl, Rick knew he would not have been able to carry on, to find a new purpose in life.

He stepped out onto the balcony and stood behind her as the light of the day waned. She turned to look at him as he placed his hand on the small of her back and rubbed it.

"I have to come clean with you Michonne. Whatever happens, I never want it said I kept secrets from you." She nodded, looking at him with eyes that were filled with so much emotion. He steadied his nerves, taking a few deep breaths. "I wanted to stay the night...I needed to know...I wanted you to know," he stammered out, smiling at her when she her face broke out into a wide grin at his nervousness.

She turned to him and grabbed his hand. "I know," was all she said.

He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. "But now doesn't seem like the right time."

"No it doesn't."

"But I still need you to know. I have very strong feelings for you Michonne." He tilted his head to the side, stepping closer to her. "Very. Strong," he emphasized each word. "But the work we had to put in just to stay one night lets me know that there is so much we have to do. I know you, you're like me. We can't relax until we do all that we need to do to protect those we care for."

"So are we co-leaders now?"

He smiled and shrugged. "I lead them and you lead me."

She laughed then and the feeling he got from it was bitter sweet. It was almost sad what this world had done to him and his ability to just let go. Although he had to admit that he did let go a little bit by staying out the entire night for his own purpose and not the group's.

It was getting steadily darker and they would have to light the lamps soon or simply just go to bed in separate rooms. She hadn't made mention of what he said to her about his feelings. He surmised much of his feelings had been known to her already, with the way he watched her, touched her, and had to be next to her. She never backed away, she wasn't backing away now.

"We should get some rest," she finally spoke. "Head out just before sun up, get the group back here as soon as possible and get to work."

"Yeah okay," he turned to move back into the apartment and she stopped him with the palm of her hand against his chest.

"I heard everything you said Rick. I'm glad we got to talk today. I think we should do more of that. If we ever find the time."

"Maybe we'll just have to make the time."

When they entered the unit Rick closed the curtains and hung a thick blanket over them to ensure all light was blocked while Michonne lit a battery operated lamp and poured them both a glass of water.

Rick was quiet as he played the day over in his head. He looked over at her, as she stared ahead deep in thought. He reached over and grabbed her hand and she gave him a soft smile.

"I'm sorry if I got you upset earlier, about Andre," he saw her eyes soften at his words before she turned away from him.

"I wasn't upset. Sometimes when I think about him I smile, sometimes I cry. I don't want to not talk about him or pretend anymore that I didn't have a family before all this happened."

He realised that no one, except for maybe Carl, knew anything about Michonne. Rick depended on her so much but wondered if she felt she could depend on him beyond survival. "Michonne?" She looked back at him. "If you ever need to, want to talk about anything, you come to me. You want to talk about Andre, about Mike," he had to force the man's name from his lips, "I'm here for you. For anything."

Michonne only nodded, but her look was skeptical. He scooted closer to her on the couch. "I mean that. I realise you do a lot for me, beyond the fighting, and I want to do for you too." He squeezed her hand tighter, "let me."

His face was close to hers. He had been creeping closer and closer without realising it as he spoke. He could feel her breath on his face as his eyes focused on her lips. He glanced at her eyes and became lost in the warm darkness of them as he leaned in and gave her a slow, soft kiss.

He pulled back, wanting to deepen the kiss but not wanting to push her, his eyes searching her face for a reaction. She had a pleasant look on her face. He was relieved she wasn't shocked or bothered by his breaching the small wall separating the platonic and the romantic that remained between them.

"Do you want to take the master or the guest room?" he asked lamely, trying to sound casual, as if they hadn't just shared their first, albeit short, kiss.

He shivered as her arm came up and rubbed him along his shoulder. "You know Rick, we don't know what's going to happen in the coming days and weeks. But we do have tonight."

His heart began to thud in his chest. Was she saying what he thought she was? He gave her a questioning look and she nodded slightly.

"Just one night," he mumbled out before placing his hand behind her neck and tilting forward to feel the soft pillows of her lips press against his once more. Her mouth parted and her tongue slipped out and brushed against his. It was so natural, he welcomed it as his stomach fluttered in nervous desire and she wrapped her arms around his waist and held on to him.

Michonne tugged lightly at him and pulled him forward as she leaned back to lay on the sofa. He was trying desperately not to get ahead of himself and rush things but he was too excited as he lay on top of her, breathing heavy into her mouth, his hands moving along her body, fighting the urge to start pulling at her clothes.

He kissed at her neck as she gasped and wrapped her legs around him, pushing into him as he ground his hips against her. He lifted off her when she began to tug at his shirt. As he removed his, she sat up and removed hers and he couldn't help but stare when her breasts sprung free of the fabric and bounced gently as they settled back against her skin.

"Michonne," he said softly as he stood and pushed his pants down past his narrow hips and stepped out of them. She wiggled out of her pants and threw them behind the couch and lay back, her legs splayed, allowing him to take all of her in.

His heartbeat quickened as he trailed his eyes up and down her body. She had removed every hair on her body. All of it. He licked his lips as he stared down at her bare center. Rick couldn't recall the last time he was so hard. He lowered himself on her, kissing her again, running his hands along her body, gripping her firm ass.

His hand rubbed against her heated center and she quivered under his touch. However long it had been for him it had been much longer for her. She gyrated and moaned, running her slick heat along his hand.

He grabbed one of her breasts and moaned at it's softness, kissing at it and circling her hard nippled with his tongue.

"Michonne," he said, looking up at her. "The first time is going to go quickly, but the next two or three times will be better, I promise." He slid two fingers in her and they both groaned as his sucked at her nipple, nipping it lightly, her fingers gripping his hair.

- **oOo** -

Michonne pushed back against Rick as he thrust slowly and sweetly into her. Taking his time, ensuring she felt every inch of himself enter her, drawing out the pleasure of their bodies meeting. They lay on their sides, him behind her, her leg lifted up. His arm was wrapped tightly around her and he squeezed at her breast. Her head was turned back towards him and they breathed into each other's mouths, kissing when they could but unable to hold it as each thrust brought them closer to the edge causing them to emit sounds of pleasure.

This was their third time and Rick was right. Each time became better as they got more in sync and the frenzy of their first time died down and there was no desperate need to rush.

She would never regret this night. It felt so right being there with him. Not just the way sex with him felt, but the way it felt being one with him. He was powerful, gentle, sure and so sensuous. He had constantly whispered in her ears how good she felt, how soft her skin was, how beautiful he found her. He had kissed her all over, held her hands while inside her and gripped her in a tight embrace when she had come.

She needed this. The pleasure, the intimacy, the escape. She had no idea what would happen when morning came, she didn't even care at that moment. They were both adults, they were both attracted to one another, and they were both level headed enough to not allow this one moment to interfere with what they had before.

She was on the verge of coming and as if knowing exactly what was going on with her, he reached down between her legs and began to stroke her clit, bringing her over the edge, making her cry out and him to hiss.

When they were both spent they had to change the sheets on the bed before getting back in. Michonne wasn't sure if she could take another round with him after the three they just had but she welcomed his kisses, his body draped over hers, his arms holding her tightly. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so secure, so safe, so desired.

"Can we sleep like this?" Rick asked as his lips kissed the skin on her neck.

"Yes."

He moved off her and entwined his legs through hers, still holding tight to her. She closed her eyes relaxed in his strong arms, the warmth of his body and a feeling of being secure and at ease.

- **oOo** -

Michonne woke just before the dawn. She and Rick had untangled their bodies during the night and he now slept on his side facing away from her. Getting up she turned on the battery operated lantern on the nightstand and went to the balcony to gather their clothes that were hung there to dry before going to wash off in the bathroom.

She stood in the tub, running the soapy washcloth over her body when the door opened and a naked Rick walked in. She looked over at him, an unconscious smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her skin tingled as she she felt his staring eyes boring into her while she continued to soap up, erasing the scent of the night they had together.

Rick stepped into the tub behind her and took the washcloth from her hands, soaking it in the pot of water and rinsing the soap off her. His hand cupped her breast and lifted it as he wiped away the soap with the dripping cloth, his mouth caressing her neck and her upper back. She leaned back against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. She wanted to stay this way forever, wrapped in this feeling of comfort and distance from the outside world.

"Do we pretend last night didn't happen?" He spoke into her neck, pressing his body closer to hers.

"Is that what you want?"

"No."

"Me either. It did happen and it was nice."

"But it won't happen again?" He removed his arms and rewet the cloth and finished rinsing her off.

"With all we have to do, there won't be time to focus on us, not like we should. We can't worry about giving each other that kind of attention, not now. We just have to take it one step at a time. Let what happens happen."

"And you want this to happen again?"

"I do."

"Me too," one hand caressed her stomach and trailed around to her backside, squeezing it gently. "Should I tell Carl?"

"Do you want to tell him?"

"No. Not yet."

"Me either." She turned to him and pressed her mouth against his, kissing him for as long as possible, unsure when they'd get another chance alone to give in to the desire they felt for one another, to take pleasure in the comfort they offered each other.

Michonne reluctantly broke free and stepped from the tub. "We should leave soon. Sun is coming up."

"Yeah okay," he dumped the water from the pot down the drain and began to fill it fresh water. "I'll be quick."

She moved out the bathroom and pulled the blankets from the window and let in the faint light of the new day and sighed deeply. The night really was over. She began to dress slowly in order to put off for as long as possible what this day would bring her.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you all for your support. I will try to be better about posting but I cannot make any guarantees as life takes over.**


	5. Starting Again

**A/N: I know, it's been long. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

 **Starting Again**

Thought I was high  
Thought I was free  
I thought I was there  
Divine destiny  
I was wrong  
This changes everything

 **"Flood"**  
 **Tool**

- **oOo** -

Abraham sat in the driver's seat of the RV fingering the gun on his lap. He was watching and waiting and if he were honest with himself, hoping the marauders who killed that family in the woods would come and start something with them. He was tempted to press the brakes to send out a red beacon of the brake lights to bring the killers to them. He didn't though. The two most hot headed members of the group, Sasha and Daryl, were stationed at either corner of the back wall and would see it and both of them would not hesitate to let him know what they thought of that.

But he was itching for a fight, to throw himself into a fray, to battle for his life, for the lives of others. Something to take his mind off of still being in this world, for a feeling of purpose, for anything to replace the sense of direction he had felt when he believed in Eugene and his mission.

As if on cue Eugene let out a loud grunt from where he slept on the bench seat behind Abraham. It was too dark to see anything inside the vehicle but Abraham turned around regardless and stared at the area where Eugene was.

How many people had he allowed to die to keep that man alive? The calls he had made because he put the mission before everything? The desperation he had to justify not pulling the trigger that day when he knelt before the bodies of his family? He was angry with himself more than anything, truth be told. At the end of the day he had become a reckless man with a prolonged suicide plan. He felt it as he sat in that dark car wishing for a pack a killers to descend upon them so he could feel a rush from fighting them.

He felt it out on his run with Glenn, feeling more and more disappointed at the lack of walkers or living people as they scavenged the houses in the area. Even though their goal was to get supplies to help them survive, his body was rigid with the want of a close call to make him feel alive.

Nevertheless, he and Glenn had had a good run that afternoon. Besides tons of canned and dried food they also found weapons and bullets. A lot of the houses they were able to get into belonged to military personnel. They also found night vision binoculars, tons of camping gear, winter clothing and boots. A few houses had solar panels or small wind turbines. They would have to go back to those places and take them apart to set up where ever it was they would be set up in.

They had also found a large truck in which Glenn, Maggie and Noah were in right now, sleeping lightly, ready to pull off if something went down. Abraham had felt good taking charge of the group the moment they got back. Both vehicles were sat in the driveway facing the street and everyone was to stay inside them, ready to run if and when the killers from the woods came to attack them. Abraham, Carl, and Glenn had taken the late afternoon shift. Now in the dead of night, Daryl and Sasha both crouched at each corner of the back wall while Carol was near the front, keeping the walkers from piling up in front of the gate.

Abraham leaned back and closed his eyes hoping to go back to sleep even if he was so wired he had awoken after only three hours. He tossed and turned in the seat trying to get comfortable only stopping when he notice Rosita sit up. He could feel her glaring at him in the dark, probably trying hard not to bitch at him. He settled in by slouching in the seat and ignoring how completely uncomfortable he was. The sun would be up in a few short hours anyway, he could deal.

- **oOo** -

Sasha was blind in the dark. Her back was pressed against the wall that ran along the back of the house and she listened closely to the shuffling through the woods behind her, able to tell if it was a walker passing by or a living person. The dragging of feet, the unaware walking through branches without any attempt to move them to the side, the low hissing growls.

The night vision goggles were gripped tightly in her hand but she preferred to go off her other senses and not hang on the wall with them propped at her eyes, where anything could sneak up on her in her blind spots as she let her guard down to rely on the lenses. There were a few walkers close to the wall at that moment moving past them unaware they were there, their scent masked by the four walkers they had put down earlier. There were broken pieces of glass scattered on the lawns near the divider wall of the two neighbouring houses. Only the living would be able to get into those yards and the sounds of glass crunching underfoot would give away anyone sneaking up on them.

She wasn't too afraid of the living coming upon them unless they had significant numbers. They were a strong group, used to fighting, to killing. Besides Father Gabriel, Eugene, and Judith, each one of them could put up a fight with or without guns. If push came to shove, her, Carol and Daryl would have to run and throw themselves in the bed of the truck Glenn was driving and they would take off and keep a keen eye out for Rick and Michonne to intercept them on their way back to the house.

There was a low tapping sound coming from the front of the yard. Sasha placed goggles up to her eyes and saw three walkers move from the front gates towards where Carol was tapping the tip of the her knife against steel rods on top of the wall to draw them to her. Carols goggles were fixed to her eyes and held by the headgear they were attached to. The woman waited for the walkers to reach her before taking them down, quietly and stealthily.

Sasha looked over to where Daryl was and saw he too was watching Carol deal with the walkers, his goggles, also attached to the headgear, down over his eyes. She watched him for a short moment as he was crouched against the wall in the other corner of the yard, the muscles in his arms flexed as they sat bent on his knees, his head resting in his hands. Those strong, powerful arms could easily smash a man's teeth out his mouth and could also hold her gently, tenderly. If she were honest, she would have to admit that she wanted to feel those arms around her again, have them pull her against his firm chest, feel his calloused hands stroke against her bare skin. But she couldn't. She had made her decision and could not run hot and cold with Daryl. She could not bring him close when she felt like it and then push him away when her fears began to take over again.

She shook the thoughts out of her head and went back to staring out ahead of her in the near pitch black, her goggles dangling, listening to the sounds behind her. She could hear a small animal scurry over the dried leaves on the forest floor, then the sure, hard footsteps of a person a few yards away. Slowly Sasha rose and placed the googles up to her eyes. A man with longish blond hair moved slowly through the trees. She dropped back down and picked up the flashlight near her and flashed it twice before grabbing her rifle and bringing it up over the wall. Looking through the night vision scope she scanned the area until she hit on the man, who continued to move parallel to the wall, not taking any notice of his surroundings, walking in a straight line.

Sasha rested her elbows on the wall as she took aim. The clank of the gun as she adjusted it in her hands echoed out low. The man stopped and slowly turned in her direction. It was then she saw his face, half torn off, teeth exposed where his lips and skin once were. One eye socket was peeled open and an empty gaping hole remained. The creature began to amble towards her, and still Sasha could hear no sound coming from it. She lowered her gun to the ground and grabbed her knife from her waistband. As she leaned down to pick up her goggles she felt Daryl next to her.

"I got it," he said.

Putting her goggles to her eyes she watched him raise a machete over his head, waiting as the creature walked towards them. As it ambled closer she could see part of its neck was also ripped out, which could have accounted for how quiet it was. Daryl swung the blade into the head of the creature the moment it was within reach.

"Sorry," Sasha whispered lowering her goggles. "Thought he was alive."

"I did too. 'Til he turned around. He looked pretty fresh. Might be the guy we're watching out for."

Daryl scanned the woods, Sasha could feel him moving his head slowly from left to right. "See anything?"

He shook his head. "No. Can't get used to these things on my face. No peripherals."

They both stood silently at the back wall. Sasha put the goggles back up to her eyes and watched the meager dead pass the houses on the street.

"I hope Rick and Michonne found a place where we can be outside and not have to be ready to run, not have to worry about being eaten alive." Sasha said quietly, almost to herself. She could feel Daryl turn to face her, staring. She knew the look he had on his face, she had seen it so many times before. He would be looking straight into her, slanted eyes steady, his mouth tight, pondering his words before he responded to her.

He had moved to touch her, the hair on her arms rising as his finger ghosted her skin, which puckered with goose pimples at the almost indiscernible touch. She didn't move away from it, but found herself moving her arm into his touch until she felt his finger, hot and calloused.

"I almost can't remember the last time I had a good solid sleep, can you?"

She heard the deep breath he sucked in through his nose and the air come slowly back out.

"The night in the bunker before the outbreak," there was a bite to his whispered voice. "Gonna be light soon, we should probably head into the RV. I'll get Carol." He stalked off then, leaving Sasha to gather her things.

The wounds she had inflicted on Daryl were still so fresh, she resigned herself to the fact that she would have to endure him lashing out at her every so often until they healed. She wouldn't even allow herself to think of the burst of butterflies that were unleashed in her stomach when he mentioned their first and last time together. Nor would she dwell on the sudden barrage of images that had flipped quickly through her head of her bent over between his legs, feeling him slide to the back of her throat, the deep sighs and moans he had emitted. She wouldn't allow herself to think back to how good it had felt when he was licking and sucking at her, his hands roaming her body as he did so.

She did think, however, of how good his finger felt brushing against her skin only a few moments ago.

- **oOo** -

"Here they come." Abraham's words pulled Daryl completely from the light sleep he was getting on the long bench inside the RV. He couldn't properly relax with everyone awake around him. Judith gurgled in Father Gabriel's lap as he sat on the floor behind the Rosita in the passenger seat. Eugene and Carl sat at the dining area eating the beans Gabriel had made for breakfast.

He envied Sasha and Carol who had taken the bed in the back after Judith woke Carl up in need of changing and food.

He got up slowly and made his way to the front and peered out the window and saw Rick slowly drive the car up to the gate. Abraham opened the driver's door and got out, Daryl followed after. Carl jogged up next to them as they made their way to the front of the house.

Glenn, Maggie and Noah were all looking out the windows of the truck, neither bothering to get out to greet Rick and Michonne, who had parked on the street in front of the house and were now making their way to the gate.

"Get a lot of supplies?" Rick asked as he slid the gate open and walked over to embrace his son.

"Why are you in the cars?" Michonne asked, her body visibly tensing.

"Me and Carol found a murdered family in the woods round back," Daryl said. "Decided to load up and prepare to move incase the killers are still out there."

Michonne and Rick exchanged a look, slow and serious. Daryl could see Rick's jaw tighten before he turned back to him and Abraham.

"We found a place. It'll take a lot of work, but it's good until we can find someplace better."

"This place can't be long term?" Abraham drawled out.

"It can, but it's not permanent ," Rick stated, his eyes scanning the area. "It'll give us time to get our bearings."

"As long as I can get some sleep, I'll be happy," Daryl grumbled.

"Not for a few weeks. We have a lot of work cut out for us to secure this place. Maybe by winter."

Walkers were gathering from the direction Rick had come from. Their rasping groans filling the air. "We should head out," Daryl said. "Before we can't."

"Drive with us and tell me more about what you saw," Rick told him before turning to Carl. "Who's got Judith?"

"Father Gabriel," the boy said, an unsure look coming over his face.

Daryl could see Rick trying to control the look he gave his son. Rick didn't think much of anything about Father Gabriel. He thought the man was a coward, a possible liability. A probable expendable member of their group.

"You ride in the RV." Rick turned to Michonne, "let's go."

Daryl walked with Rick and Michonne back to their car, he heard Glenn start the truck up as he got in the back seat.

"What happened yesterday?" Rick drove in the opposite direction from where he had come, driving down the other streets of the neighbourhood, avoiding the small herd he had drawn behind him when he had come back to the house.

Daryl told them everything he could about finding the rotted corpses in the cabin in the woods. Michonne's face was guarded as she turned around to face him, her eyes darting every so often back to Rick.

"How far is this place?" Daryl asked. "Ya'll were gone all night and a good amount in the morning too."

Michonne turned back to front but gave Rick a long glance. Through the rearview mirror Daryl saw Rick eyeing Michonne back.

"It took us a while to decide on a place," Rick said.

Daryl clucked his tongue but said nothing as he sat back and watched the scenery go by. He didn't know if he should be amused or offended by Rick's obvious lying to him. The way Rick and Michonne kept eyeing one another Daryl knew the overnight had nothing to do with finding a place to stay. He'd let them have their secret though, after all, it wasn't as if he didn't have secrets of his own. It seemed so far off, that one night in the walled cell of the bunker, lost in the feel, scent, and heat of Sasha. But beyond all that, there was the knowledge that she saw him as someone deserving. Someone she could see herself falling in love with. And she had liked the idea of that.

Daryl shifted in his seat, trying to wipe these runaway thoughts from his mind. That was the past. In the present she didn't want that anymore. She wanted to live and die without any deep emotional attachments. She wanted to never be vulnerable to the deep pain that came with losing people you loved.

"Where's this place at?" Daryl stared at the one story buildings in the downtown of where they were. The few walkers they passed by sprung to life and tried to trail after the small caravan of vehicles passing by.

"There," Michonne pointed to the apartment building in the distance.

Daryl held his tongue. He wanted to ask how it was possible to take all fucking day to find that place. He caught Rick staring at him in the rearview. "Is there a place to be outside without worrying 'bout walkers?"

"It has an interior courtyard," Rick answered, his eyes back on the road. Rick pointed his finger out the window. "There's the hardware store. We have to hit that up once we figure out what all we need. Doesn't seem to be much people out here but I don't want us running around more than we have to."

Daryl nodded, "figure most of northern Virginia evacuated to the city at the start."

"Seems that way."

"How long before they begin to empty out and make their way back here?"

"They may be heading this way as we speak. We should work fast to secure the place and find food to carry us through until we can plant. Not sure how long we're gonna be here, maybe a year, maybe longer."

"We gonna let people in?"

"We need people." Rick stole a glance at Daryl through the mirror. "But it won't be like the prison. Everyone has to train, everyone has to fight, everyone has to work. And all doors stay closed at night.

Daryl only nodded and sunk further down into the car seat.

- **oOo** -

"We can use this unit as a dining hall," Carol looked around the apartment that Rick and Michonne had first entered. "Move the furniture out, put a few more dining tables in, get two or three grills on the balcony."

Gabriel nodded and jotted down notes. "They should get new knobs when they go to the hardware store so we can lock doors. All food goods can be stored in the back bedrooms to stop people from taking more than they should."

Carol nodded. "We can go through all the closets and drawers and use another unit to house them along with bed sheets, towels and toiletries. We need a medical ward too." She stopped pacing around the living room and stared as Gabriel continued writing. "You need notes to remember all this?"

Gabriel looked up at her with a sheepish smile, "I like writing. I find it soothing."

"Like the bible in your church?" Carol thought back to the notebook where he had begun rewriting the entire bible. Gabriel only nodded and gave her another awkward smile.

"Okay, so that's three units so far. That leaves 5 with no purpose on this wing. I can start clearing out the first three and use the other five to store and sort. We should find twin beds for the medical area. Two in each room and maybe three or four in the living room. I'll tell Daryl and Eugene to keep an eye out for eight twin beds." Gabriel took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his face. "It's a bit overwhelming. Give me a few days to get things together before you inspect my progress."

Carol was a bit taken aback. She saw herself fully being involved in this process and couldn't begin to understand why Gabriel assumed he would be doing all the work.

"I plan on being right here with you," Carol told him, trying to keep the anger out her voice. She suddenly felt as if she was not being allowed to serve a purpose.

"No, you won't," Gabriel said decisively, staring her square in the eye. "They need you for other things. When they're out, you'll be needed to protect this place. For now, you should see what other plans they've come up with and see if there will be other uses for those five extra apartments."

"Four," Carol said. When Gabriel gave her a puzzled look she clarified, "we need a wash room with clothes lines."

"Okay," Gabriel wrote another note.

Something about the man irked Carol to no end. The way he always smiled, the calm manner in which he spoke, how helpful he insisted on being, the fact that he was a coward. All in all, she found him to be an absolutely queer man.

"So you plan to hide out here, cooking and cleaning while the rest of us keep you safe."

Gabriel stopped with his notes and simply looked at her. There was no anger, no fear, no shock, not even his smile plastered on his face. "For now," he said evenly. "When time permits, when the defenses are up, I will learn to fight, to use a gun, to kill if I have to."

"Like you killed those people outside your church?" The words had slipped out but she stood firm behind them. What happens to them if shit hit the fan and Gabriel was all that stood between them and certain death?

"I was afraid. I was afraid that when I opened that door that the dead would follow them in. I…," he paused and shut his eyes briefly. "I was a bastard." He stood staring at Carol but he wasn't seeing her now. His eyes were glazed over. "I shouldn't be here. I should have opened those doors, helped those people, let the dead follow them inside and simply die with all of them in that church."

"But you didn't."

"No, I did not. I can only hope to redeem myself in the future. When I was outside the church and saw the leg of that young woman on the bar-b-que pit and got trapped outside surrounded by all the dead...Michonne and Carl opened the doors to let me back in, even though it put them in danger, put that baby in danger. I couldn't help them. All I could do was hold the door against the dead while they escaped," Gabriel shrugged his shoulders. "I knew then though that I would be willing to die, if it meant I saved someone else."

Gabriel sighed and turned away from her and began to open the cupboards and drawers, inspecting their contents.

"Did I piss you off father?"

He turned back to her, his queer smile back on his face. "No Carol. I doubt you'd ever be able to piss me off."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're hurting Carol. I can see it plain as day. You are in great pain and you don't know what to do with it."

Carol moved up behind the island and glared at the man on the other side of it. "You don't know me," she hissed at him, her body shaking from the sudden rage his words caused.

"No I don't, but I would love to, if you'd let me."

- **oOo** -

The night air was cool in the courtyard where Daryl sat on one of the lounge chairs staring up at the night sky, at the full moon that lit everything up in silvery light. He had pulled the chair as far into the bushes that bloomed with flowers as he could so he was cast in darkness and was smothered by the scent of night jasmine that filled the air.

They had put in a lot of work that day. He had picked every lock in the building, killed every walker there and had rolled their bodies up in sheets and placed them in the back of the truck to be dumped away from the building.

The units were ransacked. First of food which was brought up to the unit that would be used as a canteen, then clothing items, then linens, then medical things, furniture, pots & pans, candles and lanterns, and smaller items people took for themselves. He had seen Sasha moving a stack of books into the unit that would be hers, a mere two units away from his own.

His unit was directly opposite where the infirmary would be and for a brief moment he was able to watch Sasha fixing beds in the living area and arranging supplies on an emptied book case. As a former paramedic, she would be in charge of this area as well as her guard duty shift from late night to early morning. Daryl had also been placed on that same shift, people were so used to them working together that it was suggested without a second thought. Daryl had merely nodded, thankful that for now he wouldn't be up on the roof alone in the dark with her because he would be used on runs and helping to shore up the glass windows in the lobby and run a pipe from the river out back to the building so they could pump water from there.

He had no idea how Sasha had reacted to the news, she hadn't been there during lunch when it was decided. She had been on the roof with Michonne keeping watch for the morning before heading to take a nap for a few hours and then tending to the infirmary.

Up until that moment he hadn't realised that he hadn't thought of her once since they arrived at their new sanctuary. After, all he could think of was her. It was more pronounced than when he used to think of about her before at the prison. It was more painful now.

As if to keep a strangle hold on him, on his desire for her, Sasha walked out into the courtyard from the darkness of the rear lobby. She walked slowly around the pool heading to the side where he sat covered in darkness.

She paused in the middle of the lawn and bent down to untie her shoes, which she removed along with her socks and walked around in a slow circle barefoot in the grass, a slight smile on her face as she felt the cool blades underfoot and between her toes. He smiled along with her. He hadn't seen her look so at ease in such a long time he had forgotten the image. The tender smiles she once gave him began to fill his memory. He could almost remember what it felt like to be touched by her, to be alone with her in their own private space.

Daryl knew he should get up, let his presence be known, not sit in the shadows watching her like he was some stalker, some lovelorn misfit, spying on the person he desired more than anything, head swimming with fantasies of things never to come.

He didn't move though. He watched as she stopped moving and tilted her head up to watch the sky, he watched her enjoy the night. He knew the pleasure that came from being out in nature. Nature offered up to those who wandered within it her beauty, her wildness and sometimes her cruelty. While not the wild, the courtyard offered a freedom of the outside they hadn't had in a long time.

Sasha stopped looking at the night sky and stood with her back to him. He heard the distinct sound of a zipper being opened and saw her hook her thumbs in the waistband of her pants. She started to shuffle out of them slowly. He could see the top of her panties as she began to undress, her body bent slightly forward, her ass protruding outwards towards him.

"What are you doing?"

Sasha stopped moving at the sound of his voice. She slowly turned towards him, her pants unbuckled and open, her eyes wide.

"Have you been here the whole time?" she squinted a bit to see him in his dark corner.

Daryl sat up, pulling a cigarette from its pack. "Yeah." He lit his smoke, his face blazing into sight at the strike of the match. "What are you doing Sasha?" he asked again, his eyes steady on her.

Sasha closed her eyes briefly, an embarrassed look on her face when she opened them. "Honestly?" Daryl nodded his head. "I was going to lay naked in the grass until my shift on the roof. If that pool wasn't stagnant, I would have gone for a swim."

In an instant he could clearly see them out here together on a moonless night, like the couple they had seen in the field, naked and writhing, getting intense pleasure from each other's bodies, muffling the sounds of their lovemaking, climaxing together.

Daryl pushed the thought from his mind and pulled his eyes away from her. He stood up from the lounge chair, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. "If you wanna roll naked in the grass I'mma leave you to it. I can do this later." He headed towards the double doors.

"Do what?"

"Was gonna sleep here tonight."

Sasha nodded and looked down at her feet a moment. "Don't go. It was a stupid thought, a dumb thing to try to do. Stay, get some sleep," she re-buttoned her pants and zipped them up.

He stepped closer to her, but still kept his distance. He was afraid to get too close, afraid he would reach out and try to touch her again, but this time less subtly. "It's not stupid. You want to enjoy the little bit of freedom you feel out here. Take your time and enjoy, I won't bother you."

Sasha gave a faint smile. "You're not a bother." She tilted her head up to the sky once more. "You think there are people still up there in that space station. Watching the dead run amok all over the earth, knowing they'll never be coming home."

Daryl looked upward and contemplated. "I really hope not."

"Yeah, me too."

- **oOo** -

Rick lay in the dark of his room unable to sleep. His body was tired but his mind was spinning in a million different places. He slowly sat up so as not to disturb Judith who slept soundly on his chest and turned on a lantern, making the light low. Checking his watch he saw it was now 11 o'clock.

He absentmindedly stroked Judith's back. They did good today. Working with Abraham, he was able to figure out how to work out a plan to defend this place, prioritized supplies they would get at the hardware store based on that. They all drew on their experience at the prison and learned from those shortcomings in security.

He fiddled with his wedding ring on his finger, spinning it around. It suddenly felt heavy on his finger, like a large weight wrapped around it. It had been bothering him all day. He never took note of it before, it was something that sat comfortably on his body, unnoticed. And yet, now, it chafed at him.

Judith shifted and he decided to place her on the bed. Her eyes opened and she gave him a wide smile before drifting back to sleep. He had been afraid during Lori's entire pregnancy that he wouldn't, couldn't love the baby he knew in his heart wasn't his. But she was his, he had loved her from the first moment and none of the other things had mattered at all. He had felt such guilt when Lori died. The way he had treated her, the distance he kept between them even as she was trying to bridge the gap. The way every word Lori spoke to him sounded like an accusation. He had needed her to know that he was sorry, that he regretted wasting the time they had had together, that he should have realised that tomorrow was never guaranteed.

The ring on his finger was a symbol of his life with Lori. A symbol of the past that was long gone to never come back. He was a different man now. He had a new code of ethics that he lived by, a new life, a new woman who he wanted to share that life with.

Rick pulled the ring off his finger and looked at it, twirling it around. He should have taken it off before he and Michonne went out in search of the new place to live. Before he laid her down on that couch and made love to her. It was time for him to fully let go of the past and face the future, the new beginning that this world had set up for him.

He placed the ring on the nightstand, feeling less heavy and suddenly completely tired. He turned off the light and lay fully in the bed, pulling Judith close to him and gave her a soft kiss on her cheek to which she responded by turning in her sleep and slapping him squarely in the face. Rick chuckled to himself and closed his eyes.

- **oOo** -

Sasha stared through the night vision goggles. She stood at one corner of the rooftop, eyeing the small gaggle of walkers moving slowly through the streets below the hill. Carol knelt at the corner diagonal to her on the other side, keeping an eye on the field and woods behind them.

The door to the stairwell opened and Abraham stepped out. He paused to light what remained of his cigar before moving to stand near the wall and stare out into the night that wasn't so dark under the glare of the full moon.

Sasha did another visual sweep of the area before focusing on Abraham, who puffed on his cigar and took long swigs from a bottle of alcohol. He was close enough to her that she could hear the liquid going down his throat. After a time he put the bottle down and stared over the edge, the cherry on his cigar lighting up every so often like a beacon in the night.

Sasha walked over to where he was and stared out at the dim outline of the buildings in the town below them, her goggles at her side.

"Thinking about jumping?" she asked quietly.

Abraham gave a short grunt, "I'd leave one hell of a mess."

"You okay?"

Abraham looked over at her and leaned towards her slightly, "we're not friends," he whispered.

A small smile graced Sasha's mouth. "I was kind of an asshole huh?

"I'm an asshole. You were a bitch."

Abraham had said it so calmly and matter of fact that Sasha almost missed the meaning of his words. Before she could even react Abraham sighed deep. "I get it though. You lost your brother, and not too long after you found him again. And Tara and that girl in Atlanta. It gets to you. We all have our moments when we can't begin to give a fuck."

Sasha didn't respond to him. Maybe she was a bitch but it was what it was. Abraham could have just left her the hell alone instead of offering her a drink and clichéd words.

"Can I ask you something?" Abraham turned to her, "as one not friend to another?"

Something about the way Abraham spoke made Sasha bristle. Like he was trying to egg her on, goad her into something.

"Sure," she said slowly, cautiously.

"Why are you here?"

Sasha physically recoiled back from him, almost too stunned to speak. Was this man telling her she shouldn't be here? With them? Alive?

"I don't mean here, right now, in this place. But here, in a philosophical sense. I get before you had your brother, so you were here for him. Now he's gone. Why are you here?"

"I guess I'm not ready to die. Why are you here?"

"I was going to save the world," his voice was bitter. "Now, it feels like a habit."

"So you were planning on throwing yourself off?"

Abraham stared at her in the dark. It felt like minutes passed by as she stood locked in his gaze as he seemed to contemplate her.

"You in love?" Another question from him that she couldn't figure out where it came from. "Is that it? Love is a great motivator. For life. For death. I see the way Daryl's been looking at you and how you've been looking at him too."

"Oh," Sasha said slowly. "I see. You want me to throw you off this roof."

Abraham let out a genuine chuckle.

"You thinking this isn't worth it? Aren't you in love with Rosita? Isn't that something to live for?"

Abraham lifted his left hand and wiggled his ring finger at her. She hadn't noticed before he wore a gold band around it. She didn't have to ask, she knew the ring had nothing to do with his current companion.

"I didn't start out with this group, but I guess I've grown to love them. All of them. In one way or another." Sasha held the goggles to her eyes and did a slow scan of the area she was to be watching. "I believe in this group, in what Rick is trying to do. It's not saving the world, but it's doing something good, trying to rebuild it, if only on a very small scale." She pulled the goggles from her eyes and tapped them nervously against her leg. "We had that before and it held for a long time. We had a community back in Georgia. Doing well too. The dead became manageable but there was still the people. There are no people here though."

"The guys in the woods?"

"No. We can take them. They can't be very smart or resourceful, if they were they would have found all those guns and bullets like you and Glenn did. They killed one man, woman and child with a stick. I doubt it was a very hard fight for them."

"Those people had survived for a long time after the fall. You gotta be tough to do that."

"Or smart. You can figure out how to avoid the walkers, how to kill them, but us, this group, we know how to fight people."

Abraham merely grunted and began to twist the cap of his liquor bottle. "I think she loves me," he said. "I think she sees this place as a chance for us to become something more."

"And you?"

"I love my wife." Abraham swallowed a large amount of the liquid. "And she's dead."


	6. Changing

**Chapter 6**

 **Changing**

I'll be your biggest fan  
I will be your fool  
I'll be your exception  
To whatever the rule

And I ain't the type to bitch  
I ain't the type to cry  
I'll sit at your red light and wait  
For your shit to go by  
 **"Phase"  
** **Ani DiFranco**

- **oOo** -

Michonne's eyes were focused, her breathing steady. She held her sword aloft as she waited for the first of the twenty of so walkers to reach them as they stood ready by the back gate of the hardware store.

Rosita was nearby, her machete in hand as she bounced lightly from side to side. Rick, Abraham, Glenn and Daryl were all inside already to get supplies together. She and Rosita had lured the walkers out with shouts and clanging their weapons against the ground. The small amount of blood Rosita had squeezed from her finger after cutting it had really gotten the attention of the dead. The walkers had shuffled out the back door of the building while the men had waited around the side.

Michonne stepped forward and took the head off the first two, kicked at a third and pierced the head of a forth. She felt her heart rate quicken in her chest as she stepped to the side. The group of walkers had split. One half coming for her, the other for Rosita. She grunted with the effort, taking heads, stabbing skulls, kicking walkers back on top of one another. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and her underarms felt moist.

She was now circling her group, killing and pulling back, keeping out their grasp. She took the last one down and looked over to see Rosita spin and slam her blade into the last walker on her side, kicking the corpse away to free the machete from the bone.

Rosita bent forward, her hands on her knees, panting heavy. "I need to work out more," she said between heavy breaths.

"Put it on the list of things to do," Michonne smiled at her.

They joined the group in the store where Abraham and Glenn were stacking wood to one side. Michonne began to fill a basket with nails of all sizes as well as screws. She heard the clanking of chains as Rick began to dismount the huge rolls of them from the wall and trudge them out the door to place in the RV.

"Grab some bungee cords," Abraham shouted out to Rosita. "We can tie these on the roof of the RV." He and Glenn lifted a stack of wood planks and began heading to the door.

Once her basket was filled Michonne went and rested it by the door and started filling another with small items they needed. They worked steadily and methodically, emptying the store piece by piece.

There was a loud crashing sound and they all froze for a second as they heard Daryl cry out. The group ran to the back of the store, fearful he was being attacked. There was a steady stream of noise followed by his grunts, shouts, and curses.

They found Daryl tangled in the two by fours. They were slowly falling on him as he tried to get out from under them. His legs were wedged in a pile and everytime he tried to get his bearings he lost his footing and slipped, stopping his fall with his hands and trying to stand erect as another piece fell on him. They watched as he struggled in the debris until the last bit of wood fell down on his head, which he grabbed, winching in pain before stumbling again.

Michonne fought hard not to laugh at his predicament. She looked over at Rick whose body shook in amusement as Daryl gingerly released his leg from the pile and began to slowly step out of the trap he found himself in.

Daryl looked at them, angry, as he stepped from the pile. "Ya'll just gone stand there while I'm being attacked?"

He looked so incredulous, like a child chastising his parents, that all Michonne could do was chuckle. She heard a suppressed laugh sputter from Glenn's lips before the rest began to join in.

"Ya'll are horrible people," Daryl said turning the pick up the two by fours and carry them to the door. "Wretched," he called out over his shoulders.

It had taken them five hours to fill the RV, truck and trunk of the car. They would be able to make it back to the apartment building in time for lunch. Abraham and Daryl worked to secure the wood to the top of the RV with the bungee cords while Rosita went around picking through the pockets of the dead walkers, collecting knives, lighters, pocket tools, and anything that looked like it could be of use.

Glenn was near the front keeping an eye on the road, making sure they could get back out on it without any problems.

Michonne stood in the doorway watching everyone put the finishing touches on their mission, listening to Rick stalk around the building, picking up little things that looked good to him.

Done with their work, Abraham got behind the wheel of the truck while Daryl and Rosita went to sit in the car that Michonne would be driving back, Rick would take the RV.

"Hey Rick," she called back at him as he moved through the aisles. "Looks like we're ready to move."

He started coming towards her, stopping at the side of the door out of view from anyone else. "I got something," he said cryptically motioning with his head that she should come to where he was.

Michonne eyed him for a beat before stepping back in the store. He was leaning casually against the wall, his shirt clinging to his skin, his hair wet from sweating through all the work they had put in. He had a lazy smile on his face, eyeing her as she came closer.

She stood in front of him, her hands behind her back to stop herself from reaching out and running them along his chest. There was no time for that, but the way he looked at her, she wished that they could get lost in the back of the store for a few hours.

Rick's smile grew larger as he stepped back, beckoning her with his finger, scooting the basket he had been loading with odds and ends backwards with his feet.

"Rick, we have to leave, they're waiting," Michonne followed him further into the store.

"This won't take long." He turned and pulled a metal tin from basket. "Look what I found," he opened the tin to reveal an assortment of bite sized chocolates.

Michonne felt like a junkie staring at the tin filled with so many goodies. She hadn't had chocolate since before Terminus, she actually hadn't thought about it since then either. But seeing it now, so close, she got all of her old cravings back. She almost groaned when Rick closed the lid again.

"They're yours," he started to hand the tin to her which she eagerly reached for before he snatched it back. "As long as you promise to give some to Carl." Michonne moaned. "Or I can give them to Carl and trust him to…"

"Okay, okay. I'll give him a quarter." Rick quirked his eyebrows at her. "A third," she relented and he looked like he wasn't satisfied with her offer. "Oh come on, you can't expect me to surrender half."

"I guess not," he handed the tin to her. "None for Judith. It'll be cruel to introduce it only to have it taken away permanently." He placed the tin in her hands and picked up the basket and began to head for the door.

Michonne grabbed his arm. "Thank you Rick." She leaned in and gave him a slow lingering kiss, breathing deep at the feel of his lips and the tender way he ran his hand along her waist.

"It was my pleasure," he said when they parted.

- **oOo** -

Gabriel found the taxing work of digging a trench from the back of the apartment building down to the river invigorating. He had spent the morning after cleaning up the breakfast dishes with a pickaxe in hand, making a path from the back of the building where they could run hoses in order to pump water from the river. Carl was behind him, digging the trench deeper so they could lay the hoses in and cover them from sight.

His undershirt clung to his skin from the sweat that poured from him, his skin burned from the sun beating down on him but he worked vigorously, enjoying the physical labour. He had even put down a few walkers, slamming the pickaxe into their skulls and dragging their bodies off to the side to be dealt with later.

He was determined to pull his weight with this group. He could no longer hide from the world, safe behind walls and denial of what was happening. He could not dwell on the terrible things he had done, or his aversion to the things he had seen this group do to protect and avenge their own. Their few days on the road, desperate and hungry, showed him the truth of these people. They were good people who still loved and cared. Any other group would have turned on each other, fighting in their need to lash out at the complete unjustness of what they had been thrown into, what they had to endure. Any other group would have left him behind because of what he had done, killing all those people outside his chapel.

He wanted to be a real part of them. He had prayed on it. Or more like meditated. Gabriel moved back and forth between believing and wondering how he could ever have believed and dedicate his life to it. One moment he was praising God and the next cursing him.

Gabriel checked his watch, he wanted to go back up to prepare lunch at 11:30. He had been up since 3 a.m. cooking breakfast in time for the switch of guard shifts at 4 a.m. Maggie and Noah ate at quarter to four and Sasha and Carol came down to eat at quarter past before going to bed.

The chilliness Carol had shown him before was nothing compared to the iciness she had shown him this morning as she glared at him while she ate. When he looked at her he saw a deep well of pain that she tried, and failed, to hold in. Clinging to it, it seemed, like a lifesource. He wanted to get her to open up to him, to release her hurt, even after she attempted to bait him with her cutting remarks about what he had done at the start. He knew somehow her contempt for him was nothing compared to the contempt she felt for herself. He was an easy target for her, the weak cog in the wheel. He was used to being abused by people. As a priest, people lashed out at him, blamed him and his God for their problems, hated him for trying to be there for him. He was a counsellor no one wanted but came to in need anyway, resenting that they couldn't go through their trials alone, in peace, without need of someone to be there to simply listen if nothing else.

Before heading back inside so he could cook and Carl could get ready for his watch shift at noon, they both headed down to the river and carefully filled four buckets with water. In the canteen Gabriel was surprised to see Carol, Judith on her hips, going through the cupboards and pulling food from them.

"Anything I can help you with?" Gabriel asked as he poured water from a bucket into a pot to boil, straining it through a t-shirt held in a sieve.

"You can take Judith while I make lunch. Those guys are gonna come back ravenous."

"Let me get these pots on the fire first."

When the pots were simmering Gabriel took Judith from Carol. He avoided looking directly at the woman, not wanting to be locked in the malevolent stare she seemed to reserve solely for him.

He snuggled the little girl closer to him, inhaling her scent, enjoying the feel of her little hands grabbing at his face. "I love holding her," he said to Carol as he swung side to side. "That's what I missed most as my girls grew older, being able to hold them."

"Your girls?"

He looked up at Carol, who's eyes were squinted with confusion. He hadn't even realised he had spoken about them until he saw her face. It had been so long since he spoke about them out loud, he was somewhat in awe that there wasn't a pang of pain that usually came when he used to bring them up. Holding Judith he felt somewhat serene remembering how his little girls had felt in his arms, small and delicate. Gabriel nodded at Carol, absentmindedly kissing Judith atop her head.

"I thought priests weren't supposed to have children," Carol finished opening her can and dumped its contents in a pot.

"That's Catholic priests. I'm protestant. I was married. I had two girls." The images, the memories began to flood him. He could almost hear the sound of their voices, smell his wife's perfume, feel the press of her lips on his skin. "I'm going to take Judith outside for a walk in the garden," he needed out of the enclosed space of the canteen. He needed to be alone with the thoughts he hadn't allowed to enter his mind for years. He needed to get away from the look on Carol's face. He had dealt with enough pity for his family.

- **oOo** -

Daryl was panting as he stood next to the river. He gladly took the bottle of water Gabriel had offered him and drank deep from it. They had finished running the hoses down to the water, laid within the trenches Gabriel and Carl and dug and covered over with dirt.

His legs hurt from running back to the building every time the length of hose he was using ran out and he had to get another bundle.

The building had been a buzz of activity. The lobby windows were covered with wooden planks. Abraham had nailed lengths of barbed wired to two by fours and then nailed those into the ground around the building. Eugene had set up the pump in the garden while Rick built a pulley system on the roof to pull the buckets of water up to the top floors.

"I should work on some traps, get some rabbits," Daryl said absentmindedly to Gabriel. "You cook rabbit as good as you cook squirrel, we'll be eating good for a long time." He eyed the apartment unit on the other side of the water way. It stood two stories high with eight units on each floor. Debris littered the outside of the building whose back faced them. Daryl scanned the windows with his eyes, they were blackened with dirt, a few of them broken. In the top far left corner he spotted it. It was brief but he knew what he saw. A child's face peered out the window at him, disappearing the moment Daryl tilted his head in the direction of the window.

"Shit," he mumbled. "Gabriel, go get Rick, now, hurry." Gabriel hesitated. "I just saw a child in that building and it ain't dead."

- **oOo** -

Rick had brought Abraham, Glenn, Michonne and Rosita with him, incase there were also adults and a fight waiting to happen. They moved slowly along the side of the apartment building and up the outside staircase. When they reached the unit where Daryl saw the child they stopped. Rick peered through the dirty glass, squinting as he tried to see something. He jerked his head to Daryl and stood back.

Daryl went to the front door and slowly turned the handle. It was locked. He squatted and picked the lock as quietly and as quickly as he could. He cringed when he opened the door and it let out a creaking whine which got louder the slower he moved. He stood and entered the unit, slowly, looking around at the piles of blankets on the floor, a camping stove in the corner.

He didn't see anyone but the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He knew he wasn't alone in the room. He turned to see behind him and knew instantly that something bad was coming. Something shuffled out of the dark corner and on blind instinct he ducked down low, feeling air stream over the top of his head as something moved over it. He had just avoided a serious blow. He stood up again and was just able to register a woman standing opposite him before she turned her torso back, a bat in her hand, and swung with the full force of her body towards him, grunting wildly with her effort. Unthinking, Daryl reached up and blocked the blow with his hand, feeling a finger bend back further than it was ever intended to, a lightening rod of pain searing through him as he gripped the bat hard and snatched it from the woman, cursing loudly and flinging the weapon far behind him.

He glared at the woman who swung it. She stood a moment in shock, her ratty dark brown hair hanging limply over her shoulders, her face and clothes dirty, her eyes wide before narrowing as they locked on him. Then she let out a guttural growl and lunged towards him, her fingers aiming for his eyes. He grabbed her wrists and twisted his torso to avoid her kicking legs. She was strong and determined. He managed to fling her into the wall and readied himself for another attack. She didn't disappoint. She ran ahead and flung her body onto his, twisting until she was on his back. He could feel her nails digging into the skin of his neck, her fists pounding on the top of his head, her heels slamming into his waist. Daryl bent forward and threw her off his back, trying his damnedest not to go ahead and kick her squarely in the ribcage as she lay on the floor moaning.

Then he heard the click of a door opening behind him and two young children came out. The woman cried out "no," but the children, wide eyed and frightened, came all the way into the room and ran to her, wrapping their small arms around her, covering her with their body.

She looked up at Daryl and crumbled. Her eyes swelled with tears and she cried out with a sense of defeat. She thought they were all going to die. All Daryl could do was stare at her before taking a step back away from them.

"Daryl," Rick said softly walking into the unit. "Head on back and have Sasha take a look at your hand." The woman, with the children still holding on to her, moved away from them until they were pressed into the wall.

"Please," she begged. "Please," her voice was bordering on hysterical. "We have supplies, you can have them just please."

"Go on," Rick said to Daryl. "We got this."

Daryl looked down at his throbbing finger that was swelling slowly before his eyes. "Yeah okay."

- **oOo** -

Rick had been at a loss at what to do as he stared down at the three cowering people before him.

"We're not going to hurt you," he stated. "We can help you." Rick turned to Abraham who stood quietly staring at the trio, a strange look on his face, almost like he was astonished.

"We're set up in the building on the hill, you should come with us," Rick had turned back to the family who looked defeated and resigned to their fate.

"We're staying here," the woman said in a near whisper.

"I can't allow that."

"You can't allow?"

"You have children. Here is not safe. Not for you, not for them."

"Rick," Abraham said turning to him. "I think maybe the ladies should handle this." He gestured between himself, Rick, and Glenn who had also entered the unit. "Too much testosterone if you get my drift."

Rick was slow to comprehend then it dawned on him that a woman alone with two kids would not feel safe surrounded by three strange men. He nodded his head at Abraham and stepped from the room with the other men.

Michonne and Rosita came in then. The woman seemed to relax a little at the sight of them. The children were so dirty their faces had streaks of mud where their tears had fallen. The boy couldn't have been older than eight, the girl might have been eleven or twelve. Rick wouldn't be able to live with himself if he left them there, even if they provided food for them, it was no way to live.

"Are there more of you?" Michonne asked, squatting to their level but still keeping her distance.

"There was another woman," the woman said, her lips trembling then and fresh tears welled up in her eyes. "She stayed next door. We listened to her screaming, unable to do anything except pray whoever was in there with her didn't find us." She choked out a sob. "Oh god, I couldn't do anything."

"It's okay," Michonne said. "Come with us. We're the good guys." Michonne held her hand out to them. "Trust us. If we were planning anything, we would have done it by now."

The woman slowly stood, bringing the children up with her. They remained firmly at her side, staring cautiously at the new people.

"He stayed for a few days before moving on," the woman said. "He left her there and I couldn't," her voice cracked. "I couldn't take care of her."

"We'll take care of her," Michonne said standing up. "Its getting dark. We need to go."

- **oOo** -

Daryl lay on the sofa in the unit that now served as the infirmary watching as Sasha bound his sprained middle finger to his ring finger. She was purposely avoiding his gaze as she worked. He didn't mind, it allowed him to take in her features unabated as she was leaned over him, tenderly touching his hand, working the tape around his injured limb.

"You're lucky it didn't get broken," Sasha was done and sat back in the chair next to the couch. "Just keep it elevated until the swelling goes down and take it easy with that hand."

She held a cloth and poured some whiskey on it and began to dab at the scratch marks on his neck. He winced slightly as the alcohol stung he wounds.

"They're shallow," Sasha said. "Shouldn't leave any scars. She was really fighting you."

"She was just scared, that's all. Would be lying if I said I wasn't tempted to really fight her back though. Glad her only weapon was that bat and her hands."

She looked down at him and brushed his hair from his face. He didn't stop her this time, allowing himself to feel the rush of anticipation at the feel of her fingers on his skin and the way his pulse quickened as she combed her fingers through his hair for two short but wonderful strokes. He wanted this woman to be his so badly that the need riveted through every space in his body.

"How long will I be unable to give the finger with my left hand?" he asked as she moved away from him again.

Sasha smiled. "Two weeks at least, if you follow instructions and take it easy. Are you in any pain?"

"My finger's throbbing. I guess yeah, it aches."

"I can give you something for that."

Daryl reached out with his good hand and cupped Sasha's face. The impulse came out of nowhere and he was unable to stop himself. Slowly and gently he ran his thumb along her soft lips, wanting nothing more than to sit up and and feel them under his own. He had expected her to reel back from his touch, fix him with a reproachful look, but she didn't. She tilted her head slightly into his grip and closed her eyes briefly. He realized then that Sasha was indeed his, only she didn't want to be. He pulled his arm back and nodded. "Yeah, okay. I'll take some pain pills."

- **oOo** -

As Sasha searched the shelf for an appropriate pain med for Daryl she found herself touching her lips, licking at them as if to pick up the taste of his finger on them. She took her time, slowly reading the bottles whose expiration dates she had printed large under the name of the medication, making sure to use things up in order of how bad they were. She was avoiding having to turn around and face Daryl, to face the comfort she had taken in his touch, to face the pull she felt towards him.

She settled on some ibuprofen, taking two large pills from the bottle and cutting them in half. She went back and handed him the pills. "Take one half now and if you still feel pain in half an hour take the other half. I'll get you some water."

She went to pour a glass for him from the pitcher on the kitchen counter. "You can stay here and lay down for a while, make sure you don't do anything to that hand."

"Are you staying here?"

"I still have a lot to do here. I need a crash cart, run bags, inventory."

"What are run bags?"

"Bags for when we run. I'll make up a two or three so we can have meds if this place falls. I may make a hip pack for Glenn and Maggie when they go on their runs."

"You think this place will go down like the prison?"

"We can't be naive," Sasha gave him the glass of water. "You know the saying; better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it."

He didn't say anything. He swallowed his pill and rested the glass on the floor next to the sofa then leaned back and regarded her. She realised she was waiting for him to touch her again and chastised herself for the thought. As she stood up to distract herself with all the work she had to do Abraham came crashing through the door, stopping short when he saw Daryl.

"Uh, can I talk to you?" He had a desperate look on his face and was agitated. "It's, uh, kinda related to what we talked about the other night."

Sasha could feel Daryl's eyes burning into her and she struggled not to look. She could only imagine what he was thinking about what Abraham said.

"I'll leave you two," Daryl said suddenly standing.

She looked at him then, she could read a look of hurt on his face which was buried beneath his hair. "No stay, I want to make sure your finger's okay."

"It's just a sprain Sasha. I can lay down in my own bed."

Sasha watched him walk out the door before turning to Abraham, her jaw tight as she tried to not show her disappointment.

"I...I talk out my ass. A lot. But with you, I feel I can say things I don't even want to say to myself," Abraham began stepping further into the room. "I am in a state of crisis."

"How so?"

"The woman who we found in the apartment building. When I saw her, when I saw her kids." Abraham sat down, unable to continue, he placed his head in his hands. "They're in a unit downstairs right now."

Sasha couldn't make sense of how this woman and her children fit into Abraham's crisis. She gathered from their conversation that he was struggling with a reason to go on, what the point of living was anymore.

"She looks a lot like Ellen." Abraham looked up at her and gave a weak smile. "My wife. The kids look nothing like A.J. and Becca but I felt like I was seeing ghosts in that dirty apartment."

Sasha sighed. The last thing Abraham needed to do was place all his hurt for his wife on the woman they had found in the complex on the other side of the river.

"She's not Ellen, Abraham. She's not your wife and they're not your kids." Abraham nodded, his eyes glassy and red. Sasha took his hands in hers. "I can't tell you what to do or how to feel or convince you to keep living. I can tell you that people around here respect you, depend on you, and there are some that genuinely love you."

It was the best Sasha could do. How do you convince someone to keep living in a world where death came fast and horrible? Everyday was a battle for survival where tragedy was common place and every survivor had a story of horror and loss.

"What happened to your wife Abraham? Maybe if you talk about, get it out, you'll be able to see it differently. Maybe you'll be able to…," Sasha almost said 'get over it', but how does one get over things like that.

Abraham looked at Sasha who couldn't reconcile the broken expression on Abraham's face with the large man who never seemed to have a care in the world, almost as if he enjoyed this new world, but now it all made sense. He, like most of them, had been dealt a terrible blow but he had tried to keep it covered, but the covering was slipping off, piece by painful piece.

"Have you even mourned your loss?" Sasha asked as Abraham fought to compose himself.

Clearing his throat Abraham sat up tall on the sofa. "I had a mission to complete."

"Well now you have time. Let it out Abraham. Don't hold on to that, don't think of the what ifs. It's eating at you everyday you ignore it, push it back. Allow yourself to feel it."

- **oOo** -

Carol stayed behind to help with the dishes from dinner. She had a little over an hour before her watch on the rooftop and told herself she wanted to kill time. But what she really wanted was to find out about Gabriel's family.

He didn't acknowledge her as she went and stood next to him beyond handing her utensils and plates to rinse and then stack to dry. He had seemed to go out of his way to avoid her, passing her in the hallway without looking at her, eating at the table directly opposite her but she might as well had not been there.

She suddenly missed him talking to her, trying to do things the way she liked, trying to please her. She missed him giving a shit about her, even when she would be surly and mean to him. She missed being surly and mean to him.

"If there's something you wish to say to me go on and say it," Gabriel said handing her a pot. "It's better than burning a hole through my skull." He gave her his peculiar smile before reaching for another dish to wash.

"Did the dead get your family?" Even Carol winched at the question. She may have lost all sense of tact but even she knew that was not the way you asked someone about such a loss. She would hate anyone to question her about Sophia so rashly without any thought of the emotions such a question would bring up.

Gabriel had stopped rubbing the dish cloth along the side of the large pot he was cleaning. It was as if he had gone somewhere else as he stood stock still with his hands in the soapy water.

"I'm sorry," Carol offered. "That was insensitive of me."

He turned to look at her, this time without his ever present smile. "Not too long ago you were condemning me. Probably wishing me dead and now today you're apologizing to me?"

"I was being..." Carol grappled at the right words. She was angry, annoyed, bothered by him, his presence.

"Honest," Gabriel offered. "I don't need you feeling sorry for me Carol. We've all lost people we loved. Thankfully, my family died long before all this madness came about." Gabriel gave a weak smile. "I never thought I'd be grateful they passed on."

"What were their names?"

Gabriel let out a long sigh and gripped the edge of the counter. "Delores was my wife. My daughters were Veronica and Abigail."

"My daughter was Sophia."

At this Gabriel turned back to her "Do you want to talk about her?"

How was it this man, who seemed so willing to be there for her emotional well being, even while dealing with the re-opened wounds of his family's death, could also be responsible for the death of so many as they begged for sanctuary outside his church?

"No," Carol took the pot from him and rinsed it in the water. "Do you want to talk about them?"

"No." Gabriel rang the dishcloth out and began to wipe the counter with it.

- **oOo** -

Michonne had opened every window and the balcony doors, letting the breeze whip around the unit as the rain poured down outside. She felt bad for Sasha and Carol who were caught in the down pour on the roof. She had seen Daryl earlier carrying rain coats and umbrellas to them before she had turned in for the night.

She stood on her balcony staring as the sheet of water plunged from the sky, washing away the dirt and grime, cleansing everything. She saw the glow of a candle light in the unit a floor below on the opposite side of the courtyard. The face of June, the woman they had pulled from the other building, was visible in the window as she too watched the storm unfold.

Rick didn't want them on the same floor as the group. People were so unpredictable and even if June didn't consciously want to, she could snap and pose a threat to them. The trio had skittishly allowed themselves to be led to the new sanctuary and listened silently as Rick laid out the rules for them. They were not allowed up to the sixth floor until all parties felt comfortable with each other, they were not allowed to wander at night, they could enjoy the courtyard, and food and water would be brought down to them.

After being provided with basic supplies, Michonne heard the locks being set on the door of their unit. When she and Maggie went down to give them dinner, she saw that June and the children, Kyle and Amber, had washed and put on the clean clothes they'd been provided with. June had taken the food, thanked them, then closed and locked the door again.

It was going to take some time for June to open up and see she was in no danger from them.

Michonne felt safe here. Tonight she had done something she hadn't allowed herself to do since the outbreak; relax. After her bath she had forgone wearing her street clothes and instead wrapped herself in the ivory silk robe with pink cherry blossoms she had taken from the unit that was now the canteen. She had, however, lain out her clothes near her bed along with her shoes just in case.

She turned away from watching June, not feeling right about spying on her, and went to her kitchen and grabbed the tin of chocolates off the kitchen counter, pulling out three pieces then heading to sit on the couch.

She had divvied up the pieces earlier, separating Carl's portion and packing it up, giving it to him after he finished his shift on the rooftop. Now she slowly opened one and took a tiny bite, savouring the sweet, velvety taste on her tongue. She forced herself to pause, to not gobble down the entire piece. She took slow bite after slow bite, leaning against the back of her sofa, feeling a long lost sense of peace. She almost didn't hear the soft knocking at her door.

Rick stood on the other side, his hair slightly damp. Neither said a word as she stepped aside to allow him in, leaving him to close the door behind him while she lit a few candles on the coffee table.

"Would you like some tea?" Michonne moved towards the kitchen to light a camping stove.

"Sure," Rick followed. She wondered if he drank tea in his old life or if he was doing it now only because she asked.

They stood across from one another drinking in a comfortable silence. When he was done, Rick placed his cup on the island behind him. He reached forward and took Michonne's mug from her, placing it next to his.

There was an instant change in the air. Michonne could feel her centre start to throb slightly as she held Rick's gaze which was making her hotter with each passing moment. She gasped softly as he stepped towards her and his hands held on to her hips before caressing her down to her upper thighs and back again. The only sound in the room was the fall of the rain the low sounds of their breathing.

Rick took hold of the sash holding her robe together and pulled it until she felt the robe flutter open around her. The cool of the air and his hands on the bare skin of her waist made her skin pucker with goose bumps. She allowed him to push the robe off her shoulders and let it fall to floor, leaving her to stand naked before him.

He slid his hand down between her legs where he stroked her damp sex gently, never taking his eyes off hers. She held off on making any sounds, feeling engulfed in the intensity of what was happening. As his finger slipped inside her she closed her eyes briefly then opened them to stare into his which were brooding with passion. Each stroke of his finger sent waves of pleasure through her which she registered with deepening breaths, not moving as he moved his fingers in and out of her. She felt her eyes closing again and her breathing became moans.

Michonne's neck tingled where Rick's mouth grazed against it. He groaned as she began to tighten around his finger. Before she could release he removed his finger and, not giving her time to open her eyes, spun her roughly around bending her forward over the sink.

The anticipation of what was to come rose high in Michonne as she listened to the sound of his belt buckle clicking as he opened it followed by the sound of his zipper being lowered. She heard the flutter of his jeans shifting and then his hand gripped her ass cheek firmly as he slowly worked his way inside her, stretching her dripping opening, his head lowering on her back as she gripped the edge of the cool steel of the sink, arching her back and pushing against him.

- **oOo** -

The rain finally slowed. Sasha shivered slightly under the thick rain coat that was a size too large and the umbrella she held over her head. Daryl had handed them to her like she was some stranger he had taken pity on before moving to give Carol hers then he stood a while speaking with her. Sasha had kept her back to them, trying not to feel any pangs of jealously as he spent time with his friend. She couldn't expect to be the only person in the group he cared for.

Sasha had watched the dim shapes of the few walkers who had wandered up the hill get caught in the barbed wire traps Abraham had laid out, writhing helplessly on the ground, tangled and unable to get free.

When the rain stopped completely Sasha shook out the umbrella and rested it to the side to dry then shrugged off the raincoat and laid it over one of the chimneys. She walked to the other side of the roof that was still in her watch area and looked out of the goggles. All was quiet and empty down below save for one walker caught in the barbed wire. Turning when she heard the door to the stairway open up she saw Daryl walk out and head to Carol, handing the woman a towel.

It must have been almost two or 3 o'clock by then. It had been raining for hours, sometimes driving hard at them. She was glad that the large buckets and the few barrels they had found had been placed on the roof, but she didn't look forward to lugging them down to the canteen for boiling when the shift switched over.

She walked back to the other side and scanned the area through the goggles. The same trapped walkers were there struggling on the ground. The other walkers in the area seemed to be heading back into town. She watched them herd up as they disappeared behind the buildings away from them.

She felt Daryl next to her before she turned to see him holding a towel out to her. She took it and began to wipe her wet face and arms before wrapping herself in it to ward off the chill she still felt.

"How's your finger?"

"Not swollen anymore," he answered before lighting a cigarette.

"Are you still in pain?"

Letting out a long stream of smoke Daryl shook his head, "not from the finger, no."

Sasha could have let his comment go, not acknowledge that there was a deeper meaning behind it but she didn't want to. She firmly believed that getting it out is always better than holding it in so she didn't ignore what it was she felt Daryl was saying to her. "Is there something else causing you pain?"

"How's Abraham?"

Ignoring the accusatory tone to his voice Sasha decided to answer honestly without betraying Abraham's trust in being so open with her. "He's in pain too. He'll be fine though but he has to go through it."

Daryl said nothing, only taking a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry burning bright red in the darkness.

"I guess we're all going through it," he said finally after a long silence where he had smoked his cigarette down.

"He's not sure he wants to go through it anymore," Sasha allowed, needing to wash herself of the burden of knowing one of their own was feeling the deep drag of this shitty world. She envisioned that one day soon they might find Abraham with his brains sprayed behind him on the wall. "I wasn't suppose to tell anyone that."

"That's a big secret to keep for someone, but I won't say nothing." He lit another cigarette.

"I mean, I get it. This is bad. It's hard. I just didn't have anything to say to him, to comfort him."

"You coulda told him to back off from everyone he cares about so it won't hurt so much when they die." Daryl flicked his barely smoked cigarette over the edge. "I'm going to bed."

He was pissed off at her again and leaving once more to put distance between them. She grabbed his arm, wanting to explain, needing him to understand where her head was, even if she herself couldn't always understand it.

"I…"

He snatched his arm away. "Forget it," he practically snarled out.

She grabbed his arm again, not letting go when he tried to pull if from her grap again. She wished she could properly explain all this to him but she couldn't even explain it to herself. The need she had to be near him, to joy she felt at being near him, and the absolute fear she had of giving in to those feelings, giving in to those wants. It held her in a tight choke hold, not letting go, cutting her off from any pleasure she would dare to take.

Sasha released him. If he wanted to go, she had to let him. This was her lonely cave she had placed herself in and she couldn't expect anyone else to dwell in it with her.

"Okay, goodnght and thank you," she mumbled out, turning away from.

Sasha paused when she felt Daryl's hand on her upper arm. She turned back to him and stood waiting for him to say something, anything, but he only moved closer to her. So close that their chests almost touched as he stared silently down at her. Feeling engulfed by his presence, his proximity to her, she took a step back but he didn't allow it, moving to narrow the gap between them again.

She couldn't see his face, just the outline of his body in the light of the half moon. She was glad for it. She could almost feel the look of hurt she knew would be there, resting on his face like a shadow that would never leave.

"Thanks for what Sasha?"

"For the raincoat and umbrella and towel," she pulled the towel tighter around herself, to close herself in, to keep herself from reaching out to him

Her breath caught when she felt his hand on her skin as he moved to hold her by the back of her neck, his thumb caressing the underside of her chin. He leaned forward until his mouth was next to her ear, the heat of his skin warming hers.

"It hurts to be around you," he whispered, causing every hair on her body to stand on end. The softness of his breath almost made her moan aloud as his lips lightly grazed her skin as it moved down towards her neck and back again. "It hurts to not be around you."

Sasha's heart began to thud in her chest, afraid of what he would say next. What he would do next. How she would respond to it.

Daryl sucked in a shallow breath. "But," he paused, the grip he had on her tightening slightly, "I think not being around you hurts less."

He stood rigidly, letting her go and moving back. Sasha felt the burn of sadness at the back of her throat as she studied the dark outline of him. She nodded her head, glad he couldn't see the pain that was building in her eyes. She watched as he slowly turned and walked away.

* * *

 **A/N: So sad Sasha is gone :-( She'll have to live on in my fics. Thank you all so much for you likes, follows and reviews and of course, your patience as I slowly get this story out.**


	7. Empty

**Chapter 7**

 **Empty**

Bag lady you gone hurt your back  
Dragging all them bags like that  
I guess nobody ever told you  
All you must hold on to  
Is you

One day all them bags gone get in your way  
So  
Pack light  
 **"Bag Lady"**  
 **Erykah Badu**

 **-oOo-**

It was the sound of the children playing in the hall that woke Rick up. He grabbed his watch and groaned when he saw it was nearing 7 a.m. He was supposed to have been up three hours ago. He was getting far too comfortable being in Michonne's bed.

Groaning he sat up and leaned over and kissed her neck. "I gotta go," he said as her eyes fluttered open. "Need to come up with an excuse for Carl as to why I was out so early."

"Maybe we should just tell him," Michonne sat up on her elbows watching him dress.

"Tell him what?" It had been almost two months since they had been there and he had been sneaking to her place almost nightly. They would make love or simply talk until one of them fell asleep but he always made sure to be up early enough to get back to his own unit before the kids woke.

"Tell him that we're...," she shrugged.

"Until you know Michonne, I don't want to tell him anything."

"And you know?"

"What I want us to be? I've always known." She was his woman, his lady, the person he was falling in love with, the person he wanted to be his life partner, his wife, the mother of his children, the person whose side he would fight by for survival, his family. She was so beautiful staring at him with still sleepy eyes that he almost couldn't be angry with her for not wanting the same things. "As long as we're just sleeping together, I don't think he or anyone else needs to know that." He leaned down and gave her another quick kiss and turned to leave.

"Rick?" He paused at the bedroom door. "We're not just sleeping together." He turned to look at her, hoping, needing her to say more. "It's more than that for me. I just need time to think about what all this really means and if I'm ready for it."

"Yeah," Rick sighed out. "I'll see you later okay?" He didn't wait for her response before he turned back around and headed out the door.

 **-oOo-**

Daryl had dragged himself out of bed and had gone to the canteen to get breakfast and some strong bitter coffee from Gabriel before he shut the kitchen down until lunch. He ate alone in his unit and drank the bitter brew on his balcony with a cigarette, willing himself to just get through this morning. He really wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed and sleep for another five or six hours.

"Getting old Dixon," he mumbled to himself before draining the rest of the coffee and dropping his finished cigarette into the cup.

He stepped into the hallway and waited for Kyle and Amber to round the corner as they ran around the sixth floor. They were waiting on him. They had started doing this about a week after they first arrived when he had shown them how to build traps and cages for rabbits. It was due to their curious and adventurous spirits that their aunt, June, had ventured out herself and got to know the rest of the group.

When June had first encountered Daryl again she had told him that she hoped he understood why she had attacked him the way she had and that she hoped there would be no bad blood between them because of it. Daryl had understood, from the moment the bat swung he understood. He offered his hand to her which she shook and let her know that he was glad they were now on the same side.

He could hear the kids running nearer. They were good kids. Well adjusted to this world as much as one could be adjusted to this madness. After building the traps he, along with the kids, Carl and Noah had gone in the woods to collect apples to place in them. Carl and Noah helped the kids into a tree and they dropped the fruit to the ground. Before they could get down a small herd had passed through. Daryl, Carl and Noah had to leave the kids in the tree while they ran for safety. The kids remained quietly where they were, undisturbed in the safety of the branches until the team were able to lure the herd away by driving a car into the town while blowing on the horn.

When Daryl went to get them down they were calm, seemingly unbothered by their predicament, almost excited by the events that had unfolded. June, however, was not.

She had given Daryl a solid tongue lashing and he stood and took it, feeling like a schoolboy, his head down as he let her hiss out her anger at him through clenched teeth. It had been Abraham who had finally calmed her down, holding her shaking body in his arms and whispering soothing words to her.

Now they came tearing around the corner, Amber chasing after Kyle who ran directly at Daryl and swung around Daryl's legs, hiding behind him. Amber stopped breathless.

"Hey," she said out of breath with a wide smile on her face. "What are we doing today?"

"We gotta check on our rabbits," Daryl walked unsteadily down the hall as Kyle clung to his leg, using it as some fun house ride. "Then you can keep lookout for me and Abraham while we put the spikes up around the building."

"Are the rabbits going to have babies?" Kyle asked.

"I hope so. Gonna check today."

"Sasha says she wants one of the babies," Kyle hopped off Daryl's leg as they headed down the stairs.

"I told her that she would end up eating its parents and brother and sisters," Amber made a face.

"I think she should have one," Kyle responded.

"You do?" Daryl smiled down at the boy.

"Yeah. She's pretty, she can have whatever she wants."

"I feel the same way buddy," Daryl mumbled but not quietly enough as he caught the embarrassed smirk Amber gave to him.

That strange feeling Daryl always got whenever he heard Sasha's name came over him. They had come to an unspoken mutual agreement to keep away from one another. There had been no hostility, no anger, no arguments. They had simply managed to avoid being in the same space together. It was better this way. Easier.

He would try to keep away from the compound most of the day. If he wasn't dealing with fortifying the property he was in the woods hunting. He would also eat his meals late. While most of the group would still be in the canteen talking, Sasha was always gone by the time he got there.

But a few times, before she had changed her watch shift, he had stood on the roof in the early darkness of night and had watched her walking barefoot in the grass of the courtyard. He had spent two weeks going up on the roof, waiting for her to appear, which she had done three times. Then he felt guilty, spying on her private moment of joy, where she thought she was alone indulging in the little piece of pleasure she could find in this world. He had tried watching the sunset and the coming darkness without peering over the side of the roof that showed the garden but the pull was too strong and he found himself walking near the edge, peering over the side and being disappointed when she didn't appear.

This ritual he had begun to indulge in didn't help him move on from her, from what he wanted from her, from the aching hurt of having tasted what could have been and now knowing what never will be. He had realised he had to stop going up on the roof all together, so he reluctantly did.

 **-oOo-**

" _Come with us Sasha."_

 _The voices were echoing in her ear from somewhere below the ground she lay on. She didn't know where she was but she sensed that she was above those who called to her to join them, called her to fall into the blackness. But she couldn't fall. She couldn't move. All she could do was lay there feeling the fear of what was out there in the darkness calling to her._

 _She was crying as the voices' whispering increased, more urgent, more enticing._

" _Come with us Sasha."_

 _Something was moving towards her, she couldn't see it but she could hear the soft scrape of it as it crawled upwards towards her. The whispers were gone. She was done crying and now lay staring into the black, waiting for the thing coming towards her to reach, her body shivering in anticipation._

 _A shape had begun to form in the darkness, a deep hiss emitting from it._

 _Sasha wanted to scream, to get up and run away but she was unable to move. It was Tyreese. He emerged from the black and became visible, his eyes glazed over in silvery blue haze, blood pouring from the wound made by the katana that put him down._

 _He seemed to glide towards her and her muscles tensed, her mouth struggled to open so she could scream as his ashen face got closer to hers, his dry lips spreading into a smile showing his yellowed, cracked teeth._

" _Come with me Sasha," he said._

Sasha felt her whole body twitch as her eyes shot open. It was black in her room. Black and silent like in her dreams. She reached out and grabbed at the flashlight on her night table and turned it on, wiping a stray tear from her eye. She had been having lots of nightmares lately. Of those she lost, of the dead beckoning her to join them, of empty spaces filled with impending sense of dread.

After the nightmares she needed to get out of her unit, so she took her rifle down to the fourth floor and ran the corridor. She would run fifteen laps, raising and lowering the rifle up and down over her head, then stopped and did as many pushups as she could. Fifteen more laps then as many situps as she could.

The running cleared her head, made her feel alive, made her feel strong, made her feel not as afraid.

 **-oOo-**

"You sleeping okay?" Maggie asked as she held the board up while Sasha hammered it into place.

"Yeah," Sasha lied.

"You sure honey?" June asked. "You could pack for a tour of the world with those bags," she added.

"I think my body is still on the night shift is all," Sasha said, standing up and admiring their handy work.

Now that Glenn and Maggie were doing runs almost every other day, Sasha had taken over Maggie's watch shift at noon with Carl and Abraham had taken over hers. His way of avoiding Rosita as he seemed to gravitate away from her more and more in this settled environment they had found for themselves.

The three women were placing boards along the doorway of the balconies on the first floor to make the balconies an enclosed space. Maggie and Glenn had been able to find lots of seeds for planting on their runs and she came up with the idea of using the balconies to plant smaller vegetables. The courtyard would be used to grow grains and leave enough room for them to still enjoy the outside space.

They had only just started on one wing on the first floor with only two units completed so far. Once all the units were done they would fill the space with dirt. They had started composting to give the soil nutrients for when time came to plant.

"Haven't been sleeping much myself," June said. "Not being in constant danger really gives you time to think." She began to load the tools into the box to get ready to move on to the next unit.

"How long were you in that place?" Sasha had been curious to know how June and the kids got to be there. She had had a few conversations with Amber, who would come and help her in the infirmary when she could, learning the basics of first aid from Sasha but the girl never seemed to really speak about their life out there. She liked to talk about before. Her school, the friends she used to have, the music she used to listen to, the movies she had liked to watch long ago before the end came.

The little girl held onto that brief moment of childhood she had gotten to experience and it made Sasha sad for her, sad for Kyle and grateful that she herself had gotten to go through a blissful youth. A youth that would sound like a fairy tale, a fable to the next generations to come.

"We were there a few months," a familiar agitated look came over June. "After our camp got overrun we moved from place to place. There weren't too many dead in this area and the stream provided water and fish. We were a small group, but slowly we dwindled. A few would go out to scout and simply never come back. The last of us included Sylvia, but then she was murdered." June's eyes got sad for a moment before she took a deep breath and gave a small smile.

"What happened to Amber and Kyle's parents?" Maggie asked.

"The dead happened." June was quiet for a moment. She ran a hand through her long brown hair that was slowly turning grey at the temples. "In the first days, their mother disappeared. Their dad, my baby brother, he couldn't take it. We found him just outside camp, the top of his head missing, a gun by his side."

"I'm sorry," Sasha said. "That must have been hard."

"Honestly? I'm still so pissed off at him for that. Leaving his kids like that," June's tone was bitter. "I guess I should be glad he didn't decide to take the kids with him." She stood up and leaned against the railing. "Those kids are my life. If I'm gonna die, it's gonna be saving them, not running from this bullshit."

"Those kids are stronger than you think," Sasha told her.

"Yeah they are. I'm afraid they'll become too hard. One day I'll look at them and there will be nothing but darkness in their eyes, hardness in their hearts."

"They'll have to be hard," Sasha said quietly. "Only the hard survive."

"But family, a good group, will help to balance that out. Alone, any one of us could devolve into feral things," Maggie interjected. "This group, when we were out there on the road starving, dying of thirst? We didn't turn on each other, we held together and survived our sanity intact."

"Somewhat," Sasha added _. Come with us Sasha_. There was a black abyss Sasha was teetering on and sometimes, if she really allowed herself to think about it, she would have to admit that the darkness seemed comforting. The thought of nothingness engulfing her, swallowing her up, seemed almost...better.

"Speak of the devils,"Maggie said drawing Sasha from her thoughts.

Sasha followed Maggie's line of sight and watched Amber and Kyle walk through the door to the courtyard with Daryl behind them. She froze for a second, swallowing the thick lump that had formed in her throat at the sight of him. She hadn't seen him in a few weeks, not since that night on roof. Except for the one time she found herself spying on him from the darkened bedroom of the infirmary which sat directly across the courtyard from his unit. It had been an early morning and she watched as he did situps and pushups in his living room before heading out for his day.

Amber waived at them. Sasha fought to keep her eyes on the children who ran up beneath the balcony.

"Hi Sasha," Kyle said, his face reddening as he looked up at her with a wide grin on his face.

June laughed and winked at Sasha who leaned over the balcony to speak to the boy who had grown very fond of her. "Hi Kyle, heading out to do some work?" The boy nodded his head.

"We gotta check on the rabbits," the boy beamed.

"Gonna see if they had any babies?" Sasha smiled. In such a short time these kids had become all of theirs. Kyle liked to peek in at her from time to time, his huge cheeks flushed as he admired her in his childish crush he had on her.

Kyle nodded his head up and down. Sasha could feel Daryl's eyes on her but she kept hers locked on the little boy.

"I guess I'll see you later then," Sasha said, getting another huge nod from Kyle.

She stood stiffly, grabbed the tool box, and walked off the balcony and out of the unit and moved to the one next door. She stood at the window of one of the bedrooms in the other unit, listening in the conversation that was still going on.

"How are they gonna be helping you and Abe?" she heard June ask.

"They'll be our eyes while we post the spikes." Daryl answered. Sasha could see his jaw visibly tighten. She had heard about his last encounter with June, when the kids had to wait a herd out while in an apple tree.

"We're not going to have any problems are we?" June voice was getting sterner.

Daryl eyed the ground. Sasha couldn't tell if he was ashamed or trying to keep hold of his temper. "No ma'am." he mumbled out. "They'll stay behind the gates and just let us know if any walkers are in the area."

"Good," June replied, her tone a bit softer. "I'd hate to have to send you to the infirmary again. I'm sure you'd hate it too."

There was a long pause. Would he want to be sent back to her, to be tended to, sit so close to her that all he had to do was lean forward slightly and his lips would be on hers? He flicked his eyes up at the window she stood in and her breath caught. It was as if he knew all along she was there.

"I'll keep them safe," Daryl said quietly before moving off with the kids to where the barbeque pit was. The cages that held the rabbits were housed under the patio there. She walked out on the balcony and placed the tool box down, waiting for Maggie and June to join her so they could put the board up.

Suddenly Kyle was running up to her, breathless and excited. "One of them is pregnant Sasha," he shouted.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he practically squealed before taking off and running back to the cages. She watched him take one of the rabbits from Daryl and as both Kyle and Amber snuggled with the soft animals, he stared at her, unabashedly, his face as sad as hers felt. She held onto his gaze, fighting to urge to mouth the words: _Sorry_ or _I miss you_ or _I'll try_.

She broke the gaze as Maggie and June came in. She bent down and took a hammer out and handed it to June along with some nails.

"You okay?" Maggie asked, giving her shoulder a soft squeeze.

Sasha nodded. She would need to go for a run tonight before bed. She would need to clear her head again.

" _Come with us Sasha."_

She would need to feel strong to face the night and to make her too tired to dream. She would need something to fight the nightmares that didn't want to stop, to fight her mind from dwelling on the past and the future she wanted that would never come. She would need to feel strong to fight the pull of the dead that called to her in her sleep, fight the urge to surrender and join them.

 **-oOo-**

The air in the room was filled with the warm perfumed scent of the washing detergent. Carol and Gabriel hung the clothes on the lines that stretched wall to wall in what used to be the living room of that unit. The linens were soaking in large stock pots that held boiling hot water.

Carol actually didn't need to be there but she had nothing better to do. The other alternative would have been going through the rest of the units on the floors below and pulling things from them to be organized later in the communal rooms, but doing that left her feeling depressed as she looked through memories of people who were most likely dead now.

Gabriel had kept to himself when around her. In the last few weeks he only spoke of things that needed to be done. He did inform her that Abraham had been showing him the ins and outs of guns. She had often seen the men in the garden going over weapons sometime joined by June and her two kids.

Gabriel had been moving nicely within the group in his calm, almost zen like state that he always seemed to be in. But the few times she had allowed herself to actually study him, she saw a sadness that hadn't seemed to be there before and she had no doubt it had to do with the reopening of wounds of his loss.

"Could you help me with this?" Gabriel called from the balcony. He held a soaking sheet in his hand and needed assistance wringing it out. She grabbed the other end and twisted in the opposite direction from him and watched the water flow from the fabric. They walked it to an empty space on the line and hung it up before going to get another.

"We haven't been able to talk in some time," Gabriel said casually as he gingerly pulled a sheet from the hot soapy water to place in the cool water of the other pot to rinse.

"You've been learning about guns and I've been…," Carol frowned. What the hell had she been doing? Brooding, mostly. Keeping to herself, still feeling a disconnect from the people she was surviving with.

"I am curious Carol. Are you crumbling under the weight of this world or are you punishing yourself for what you've done to live here?"

Carol stopped moving and stared at him, at the direct look on his face, at his kind brown eyes, at the queer smile that threatened to show itself upon his face. She realised it was a nervous tick of his. She was surprised that this time she wasn't angry at him, didn't want to hurt him emotionally or physically. She was surprised that she wanted to let it all out but she didn't know how or where to begin.

"You get to keep secrets while I open myself up to you?" She was deflecting.

Gabriel nodded his head and began to agitate the sheet in the water with his hands. "It was a car accident that took my family from me," it was almost a whisper. Gabriel pulled his hand from the water and shook it dry before sitting down next to the pot. He stared down at the courtyard for a moment, watching as Abraham swung Kyle and Amber around as he held each child around the waist with his huge arms. "They were coming back from visiting my in laws when an axle broke on one of those big trucks. It lost control and slammed into my wife's car. They didn't stand a chance."

Carol sat across from him and listened. How many times had she wished Ed would go out one day and not make it back home? And here she was listening to someone who lost someone they loved, cherished. The world had always been unfair, unjust.

"It took time, but I learned to live with the loss. It had been so long since I really thought about it though. It still hurts. Sometimes it's sharp, other times it's just a dull ache." He had a far off look on his face then, as though he were reliving a moment from long ago. Then he turned his focus on her, his gentle eyes resting on her face, calmly waiting for her to tell her story.

She didn't know where to start so she began with the day after Ed died and how she crushed his skull, slamming the pick axe into it over and over again. Relieved he was gone, angry she hadn't had the strength to get rid of him sooner. She told him about Sophia, her inability to protect her. The horror of watching her little girl, dead, walking out of Hershel's barn. How she had wished she had never known Sophia's true fate, how she still sees her baby's dead and animated face in her dreams.

"I didn't protect her," Carol said, her voice shaking as the start of tears burned her eyes. "I didn't do anything for her."

"You weren't supposed to know how to protect her against the living dead. No one was. This abomination we live with is one no one ever thought would, could happen," Gabriel said.

"Rick knew. He knew how to fight and how to defend his family."

"Rick was a police officer. You were not. You cannot compare your actions in the beginning with those who were trained to deal with disasters and danger."

Carl heard his words but couldn't allow them to soothe her. He didn't know how awful a mother she had been. "I tried to leave once but turned right back around and went home because I was convinced I needed Ed to live. I purposely brought her back into that house with that man. Even when I believed she would be in danger. What kind of mother does that?"

"An abused mother. One who's been broken by her abuser." Gabriel moved closer to her and cautiously rested his hand on hers. "Carol, no one should have to protect a child from their own father. You tried to leave once, you can't say that you wouldn't have succeeded on the next try. You're strong and resourceful. I truly think you would have made it out and given your daughter a good life if things hadn't fallen apart. What you're able to do now, that didn't come from nowhere, you just needed an opportunity to believe in yourself."

"There's more," Carol rasped out. Karen and David. Lizzie and Mika. She closed her eyes as she confessed to shooting Lizzie. When she opened them, expecting to see his full judgement of her, a look of disgust, she saw understanding. Sadness. He handed her a damp washcloth to blow her nose and wipe her tears. She realised that she felt lighter, saying the things she did out loud, confessing her worst deed to this man who had done terrible deeds himself but somehow was not a terrible person.

"I don't think you're evil," he said finally. "Misguided perhaps, but who hasn't been when dealing with life and death? It wasn't malice that led you do those acts but love. Love for your group to try to stop the spread of a disease. Love of you group to realise that they'd be in danger from that little girl. Love of that little girl to not leave her out there to die alone, painfully and horribly."

"You don't believe that."

"I do."

"How? Why?"

"You're not a murderer Carol. I am. And I have to find my way back from that. You...you're a protector. And the way we have to protect those we care for now is brutal. I think you need to allow yourself to get back with these people. Let them love you. You deserve their love."

Carol stared down at the garden, at the pool that was slowly being drained below. That was how she felt, like she was slowly draining out and there was nothing but a gaping hole where her emotions had once been.

She turned back to Gabriel who had let go of her hand but still had his concerned eyes fixed on her. "I started out weak and was determined to be strong, but that made me a monster and it's eating me up inside. It's going to swallow me whole."

"No it won't," he told her. "I won't let it."

 **-oOo-**

Michonne stepped out into the cool air of the courtyard. She could hear the rabbits rustling in the cages and smell the bloom of night jasmine in the air. In the far corner she saw the glow of a cigarette. She squinted into the darkness, "Daryl?" she whispered out.

"No," Carol answered back.

Michonne slowly made her way over to where the other woman sat smoking. Carol was sitting on the grass, a bottle of liquor between her legs, a pack of cigarettes next to her. Michonne sat down next to her.

"Nightcap?"

"I'm mourning," Carol said taking a swallow from the bottle before having another drag of her cigarette. "Thinking about my daughter." Carol held the bottle out to Michonne who took it and drank. Bourbon. Strong and hot like fire in her throat. "Drowning my sorrows," Carol said, a small sob escaping from her. "I try not to think about her too often, it just reinforces the...," Carol took another drink, "I don't even know."

Michonne knew. She knew the feeling so well as it was with her all the time, even when she wasn't aware of it. "Emptiness," Michonne said softly. "There's just an empty space inside you and nothing and no one can fill it. Sometimes it feels like the emptiness is spreading, threatening to hollow you out, sometimes it's just a small hole inside you that nudges at you always." She reached out and took the bottle from Carol and drank more.

"How old?" Carol asked.

"Three."

"Boy? Girl?"

"Boy. Andre." Michonne leaned back on her elbows in the cool grass and looked up at the stars. "Once, Beth told me something I found so profound. She said they have a word for kids who lose their parents, for people who lose their spouses, but no word for parents who lose their children."

"Broken is the word," Carol stubbed out her cigarette. "Guilty."

 _Yes, guilty_ , Michonne agreed. She had felt guilty about leaving Andre with Mike and Terry. Guilty for not seeing how terribly afraid they were. Guilty for trusting he would do all he could for his son despite his terror.

"I'm so empty Michonne," Carol's voice cracked. "I feel like if you cut me open nothing but air would come out. Some days it's like...the walkers are more alive than me." Carol drank deeply from the bottle, gulping audibly, the thought of the amount of liquor she was imbibing made Michonne feel queasy.

"Does the liquor help?" Michonne asked. "Does it help to fill the empty space inside you?"

Carol sniffed, "I think it's making it worse." She put the top back on the bottle and put it down.

"Do you want to be empty Carol? Is that why you've pulled away from us?"

Michonne could feel Carol staring at her in the darkness.

"No," Carol said. "I thought I had a handle on all of this. Kill walkers, teach people how to kill walkers, put our people down as humanely as possible, keep alive. Then things got more complicated. I don't know if I really know right from wrong anymore. Was I wrong to kill David and Karen? Was I wrong to kill that woman at Terminus? I could have killed Noah, was I wrong not to?" Carol let out an audible sigh. "Am I a monster Michonne?"

"Compared to what?" Michonne shrugged in the darkness. "How can I judge that? What do I judge against? Myself? Rick? If so, then no. Against the past? Then we are all monsters. I didn't make it this far on sunshine and farts."

Carol laughed at that, "No, I guess not."

"But even with all I had to do, I still saved Andrea. I still joined this group. Things are less cut and dry now."

"Have you killed a lot of people Michonne?"

The vivid image of Mike's arms flying away from his body as she cut them off came to Michonne's mind. She closed her eyes against the memory.

"Lets not talk about that," she said. "Maybe we can think of the good things we still have. Like this group, this place to catch out breaths, people who love and care about you. Who appreciate you. Especially Father Gabriel," Michonne added slyly trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"He's very handsome."

"Is he?" Carol said slowly. "You thinking about putting the moves on him?"

"You are so full of shit Carol. Were you always so full of shit?"

"Maybe," Carol sounded like she was smiling. "I find I like talking to him. He's one of the broken too you know." Carol lit another cigarette and they both sat quietly for a moment. "He's done horrible things but he's not horrible. You know what I mean?"

Michonne did know. She thought of Rick biting into that man's throat, spitting the skin and bits of flesh onto the ground. He had been so afraid after that. Afraid they would all run away from him, shun him, shun his determination to keep them safe.

"After my last group fell and Andre died I walked with the dead. I had two of them on chains and they camouflaged me, allowed me to walk in the middle of herds, be unseen by walkers. I got so used to listening to their moans, smelling their decay, having conversations with lost loved ones in my head." Michonne thought of the walker with the long braids, the one who she saw herself so clearly in before she made her way back to Rick and Carl.

"When I came to this group I was empty. I thought I had lost the only friend in the world I had when Andrea stayed at Woodbury. I remember being outside the cells with Rick. I remember how cruel I thought Rick was, how much animosity he showed me. Great, I thought, just another Woodbury, but this time in a prison." Michonne almost laughed at the memory. "And then when I saw his reaction to you when you were found, how all of you were together, the love you all had for one another. I knew then that your group was different."

"I told Daryl I don't feel like I belong here anymore. He said none of us belong here. I guess we don't." Carol chuckled, "but here the fuck we are, he told me."

Michonne smiled over at Carol, "here the fuck we are," she echoed.

 **-oOo-**

Gabriel hadn't been sure he was actually hearing knocking at his door as he came to from a light sleep. He sat up in his bed and cocked his head to listen. He heard it again and slowly got up and stumbled to the front door, pausing to light a candle and place it on the kitchen counter of his unit.

He opened the door just as Carol was going to knock again. She smiled wanly at him and swayed slightly on her feet.

"Hey Father," Carol slurred, slapping him lightly on his bare chest before pausing and licking her lips slightly at the sight of him topless before her. "Nice," she mumbled before moving past him into his unit.

Carol flopped down clumsily onto the plush black leather couch and looked around in the candlelight, frowning. "A man lived here," she said. "Black couch, black chairs, black tables, black vases. I bet you have a black headboard."

"You're drunk." Gabriel felt both amused and worried by this revelation.

Carol's head rolled back to rest on the back of the couch before she suddenly brought it forward again. "Fucking right I'm drunk."

"I'll get you some water." He walked to the kitchen and poured her a glass from a large glass pitcher. He sat down next to her on the couch and handed the glass to her which she, to his relief, drank all the way down and handed back to him for a refill.

As he brought the pitcher over the couch Carol fumbled with her shoes, trying and failing to take them off. Gabriel placed the pitcher and glass on the table in front of the couch and grabbed her leg.

Carol kicked at him feebly, "I can do it," she slurred then stopped fighting him. "You do it," she huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

Gabriel laughed at that, she was so much like a toddler in that moment. He unlaced her boots slowly and removed both shoes then her socks and placed her feet on his lap. He handed her a fresh glass of water which she sipped this time before placing it back on the table.

Gabriel rubbed her feet lightly watching her amused. He could never, would never, have imagined what Carol would be like drunk. She lay back against the armrest and watched him, not with the malevolent stare she usually gave him, but more with curiosity.

"You're not on watch tonight?"

"June relieved me, said she can't sleep nights."

Gabriel nodded as he kneaded the soles of her feet. "Are you all right Carol?" Although amusing, it was somewhat worrying that she would get in such a vulnerable state.

"I'm…," she began then frowned. "I'm better."

"Do you want to talk?"

"No I don't want to fucking talk. You're not my fucking psychiatrist?"

Anger flashed through Gabriel. He shoved her feet off his lap and stood up. "What do you want then? Why did you come here? To abuse me? Is that it? I'm your punching bag?"

He had thought they had come to a kind of understanding. She had confessed her sins to him and he had comforted her. He thought they had made a breakthrough on their burgeoning friendship. Was it his past? Is that why she couldn't bring herself to respect him? Well fuck that shit, he wasn't the only one who had done something unforgivable to survive and he wasn't going to allow anyone to treat him like less than because of it. He was paying his dues, making his amends, becoming a stronger person and he wasn't going to let Carol Peltier shit all over him.

He realised he was clenching his fists and released them as Carol sat up. "I'm sorry," she said running her hand through her hair. "I have no right to take my anger out on you."

"No, you don't." Gabriel sat back down. "Whatever hurt you have Carol, I'm not at fault for it. Think what you want of me, but I didn't bring you to this point."

Carol nodded and fixed her sad eyes on him and he could feel himself relenting from his initial anger. There was something about her, perhaps her hardness mixed with the remnants of her past vulnerability, that drew him to her. Perhaps it was the way her closed mouth smile seem to pull her face into a almost childlike innocence that sparkled in her eyes. Perhaps it was the way she seemed to move so easily with a strange grace as she took down walkers. Perhaps...A sudden realization came to Gabriel. Perhaps it was because he simply found himself attracted to her.

"I appreciate you talking to me," Carol said pulling him from his thoughts. "I guess," she shrugged, "it kind of pisses me off too. Sometimes I think I'm fooling myself and I'm still Ed's wife, cowering and mewling in the corner frightened of her own shadow."

This was the woman who single handedly saved her friends from cannibals and she was constantly doubting herself. Gabriel couldn't understand it. How could she not see her worth?

"Ed's dead Carol," he shifted in his seat to get closer to her. "He's dead and you're still here. Whatever he did to you he can't do anymore. Whatever he made you feel, you don't have to feel it anymore. You need to bury him Carol, let him fade away."

She stared silently at him, her eyes brimming with tears that had yet to fall. He reached for her, putting her face between his hands, making her focus on him. "You didn't make it this far on blind luck. You made it because you are strong and clever. Your group took you back no exception because they know your value and they love you." _And you're so beautiful_. He kept that one to himself.

He let her go and stood up. "I'll get you a pillow and a blanket. You can stay on the couch tonight." She nodded.

 **-oOo-**

Sasha couldn't sleep. She felt too tucked away in her bedroom, too far from everything. She grabbed her pillow and went and took a quilt from the hall closet and went to the balcony. The night air was still but it was still cooler out there than inside. She folded the quilt in half and laid it on the floor of the balcony and laid down on top of it.

The moon was almost gone and the stars shone bright. She watched a few shoot across the sky and wondered about those stuck up there in the space station, wondered if they would try to come back down to Earth or if they had resigned themselves to the notion that they would die up there, above all the chaos that had come to be. She wondered what she would want to do.

She grew tired running all the possibilities through her mind. Before she closed her eyes to the nightmares she knew would come she knew the answer to the question she was pondering. She would come back to Earth and she would fight.


	8. Shifting

**A/N: I want to add a mild trigger warning for this chapter for some disturbing content.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

 **Shifting**

Carry away my dead leaves  
Let me baptize my soul with the help of your waters  
Sink my pains and complains  
Let the river take them, river drown them  
My ego and my blame  
Let me baptize my soul with the help of your waters  
Those all means are so ashamed  
Let the river take them, river drown them  
 **"River"**  
 **Ibeyi**

 **-oOo-**

Jeremiah knew he wasn't the last person left alive, truly alive, in this town. He had seen evidence of others, heard their engines purr as they drove through the streets, but he had never been able to catch up with them.

He had spent most of his time walking with the dead. He wore their insides over his own skin and travelled in between groups of them, smelling their scent, listening to their sounds, staring at their various levels of decay.

He was the king of the dead. He had learned to use them as cover while he searched for others, observing them, hunting them. Sometimes the dead would reach the living before he could. He would stand back and watch them devour the warm flesh. Watch the fear and the anguish of the victims. Watch with fascination as they re-animated and became a part of the pack.

It had been a long time since he had been in the presence of the living. A long time since he felt the thrill of making them into one of the roaming dead.

This new world was made for Jeremiah. For as long as he could remember he never felt like others. Could never relate to their need to please others, be kind to others, do the right thing by others. He found these things made people weak, easy to manipulate, easy to fool, easy to prey on. And he never felt better than when he was preying on others.

His mother was his first victim. He learned to pout his mouth, bat his eyes, say the things she liked to hear, cry on command. She never wanted to believe he was responsible for missing jewelry or money. Never wanted to see that it was him that killed her birds, made the dogs in the neighbourhood go missing, poisoned the cat. When she finally did admit to herself that Jeremiah was not as innocent as she thought, she made up excuses for him better than he ever could have.

His father was a different story. The man had been afraid of him. He watched Jeremiah like a hawk and mistrusted him completely. He even put a lock on the outside of Jeremiah's bedroom door and would lock him in his room at night and said, with Jeremiah in the room, that he didn't trust the boy not to kill them in their sleep. His mother had cried but Jeremiah could only wonder how his father knew him so well behind the mask he had tried so hard to cultivate and wear at all times.

Jeremiah had a fascination with death and an acute desire for dead women. He hadn't been aware of this until he was eleven when he visited a funeral home with his grandmother to view the body of one of her friends. It was in that silent room where the dead lay in their finest clothes in lush caskets that he took note of the young woman near to where they were viewing the aged woman who had been his grandmother's friend.

Her hair was fanned out around her, sleek and shiny, the dark brown a contrast against the stark white of the satin pillow beneath her head. He had touched her in her coffin. Had raised her arm up and placed it in a different position. He was thrilled at the notion that he could move her where he liked, how he liked. He was thrilled at knowing he could have complete and total control over her.

A few days after his twenty-third birthday Jeremiah realised his fantasy by creating his very own "doll". Deep in the woods in the cabin once used by his father and uncles when they were children he had laid the body out and remained with it until it was too far gone and he had to bury it behind the cabin. For months he had relived the moments. And when he was ready to go out and do it again, the dead began to rise.

He had viewed the news with rapt attention, watching the footage of police shooting people who stumbled back but never fell until they were hit in the head. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. A world full of dead people. A world meant for him.

He had been alone in the house with his father when he had to see this for himself. He had gone into the kitchen and grabbed a knife and came back and without any warning he stabbed his father in the chest. Repeatedly. The man fought hard for his life but Jeremiah never relented until his father fell to the floor and bled out.

Jeremiah had sat down and watched. Minutes ticked by as he waited for his father to rise. He wasn't sure how long it had been before the man, bloodied with a look of horror on his face, began to twitch and moan and get up again.

Jeremiah hadn't been prepared for what would happen next. He didn't expect the man to move so fast, to be so strong, so blindly determined in doing one thing; sink his teeth into Jeremiah's flesh. Jeremiah ended up having to bash his dead father's head in with the silver lamp on the end table. Then he had sat with the dead body all night waiting for his mother to come home but she never did. She was probably still out there wandering with the rest of the dead.

 **-oOo-**

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

Michonne jolted awake. There a bang after the shouting. She jumped out of bed, quickly pulling her pants on and ran out the bedroom. She cracked the front door and peered into the hallway to see Abraham standing outside his unit being hit by pieces of his clothing and a few shoes.

"You piece of shit asshole," Rosita screeched throwing another item of clothing at him. "You wanna leave, then leave." Rosita went back into the unit slamming the door. Abraham cleared his throat slightly then bent down picking up the items on the floor, trying to keep a little bit of dignity under the shocked gaze of everyone as they also peered out at the scene that had just unfolded before them.

The door opened again and Rosita came out, tugging on something heavy. _Oh lord she's going to throw the couch at him_ , Michonne thought when suddenly Eugene came spinning from the unit before slamming into the wall between the windows opposite the unit doors.

"And take him with you," Rosita shouted pointing at Eugene whose face was scrunched up on the verge of tears. "Two fucking cowards," she spat before retreating once more into her apartment with another loud bang of the door.

Michonne stole a glance at Carol who leaned against the jamb of Gabriel's unit looking like she had been run over and thrown off a cliff. Amber and Kyle were crushed against the wall not far from where Eugene was thrown, wide eyed and seemingly unsure of what to do. Carl stood in his doorway holding Judith who whimpered at all the commotion as Daryl walked from his unit and helped Abraham gather his things.

The door clicked again and Michonne jumped, not knowing what to expect from Rosita this time. Rosita didn't come into view, instead a ball of clothing was thrown into the hallway then the door closed again. Now it was Eugene's turn to start gathering things as these were his clothes.

Then there was silence except the sound of clothes being picked up. When done, Abraham, Eugene, and Daryl walked around the corner to a free unit on that wing.

Michonne made her way over to Carl, "what was that about?"

Carl shrugged and kissed Judith.

"Where's your dad?"

"On the roof. Said he couldn't sleep and I could find him up there."

She hadn't slept much herself. She had lain awake waiting for Rick to come. She had become accustomed to having him in her bed, his arms wrapped tightly around her that without it she felt ill at ease.

"Come on kid," Michonne said putting her arm around Carl's shoulder. "Let's go get some breakfast."

 **-oOo-**

"No, no, no, no," Eugene kept muttering as he paced the unit. Abraham sat on the couch watching him, feeling himself get more annoyed with each passing moment.

"Sit down Eugene, it's gonna be okay," Abraham said wearily.

"NO," Eugene shouted walking up to him and pointing his finger in Abraham's face. "You fix this. You fix this NOW."

Abraham slapped Eugene's finger from his face, "don't point that at me. You wanna go back? Then go."

Eugene stared at him for a moment then went back to pacing. Abraham let out a deep breath and slouched down on the sofa. After last night, being on the rooftop with June, he knew he couldn't go back to pretending what he and Rosita had was real for him. Shit, he should have done what he did sooner instead of waiting.

Maybe he didn't have to be a complete ass to her though. Maybe he could have chosen his words better when he told her he didn't want to be with her anymore. He wasn't ever good with diplomacy and he needed her to know that it was over. He didn't love her, he never loved her, and he hadn't ever expected her to love him.

Abraham needed to get away from this place for a while. Get out and get a change of scenery. He needed to get his head together. When he first spoke to June, really had a conversation with her, he had expected it be much like conversations with his wife. June, however, was nothing like his wife. She was no nonsense, straight to the point, and didn't suffer his bullshit lightly. With her he was forced to let down his defenses, express himself clearly. And God did he like that.

"Eugene," he barked at the man causing him to stop in his tracks. "Get your clothes and choose a room. After breakfast, we're gonna pack for a trip."

"No," Eugene said giving him a defiant look.

"Yes. You've done nothing but sit on your ass since we got here. Tomorrow we're going out to get some supplies and I'm gonna need your help." Eugene shook his head and Abraham found himself balling his hands into fists. "We're going back to where that house we stayed at was. We're gonna get those solar panels and wind turbines and you are going to help me. Do you understand?"

Eugene said nothing, just staring at Abraham for a while before his face twisted with contempt. "You never deserved her," Eugene spat out before snatching up his clothes and stalking away.

Abraham snorted. He had never tried to deserve her love and couldn't really understand why she wanted to give it to him in the first place. It was just sex she had said after their first few times together and he had treated it like that. Just two buddies who fucked every now and again. No great romance there. He never had long deep conversations with Rosita like had with June. Hell, she only knew he was married before because of his ring but had no idea he once had two children.

When he told her it was over he had honestly hoped for her to scoff, tell him he was a lousy lay anyway and that would've been that. He hadn't expected the rage and worse, the tears. The emotion she had displayed that he could never muster up for her had she been the one to walk away.

" _Either you're gonna live here or you're gonna die here_ ," June had told him last night as they stood on the roof. " _If you're gonna go, go but don't you look at all that you've done so far to survive and think it's all worthless, all worth throwing away, because you think you can't live without the thrill of death_."

 _Just one more brush with death_ , Abraham thought as he started to think of what he'd need for his mission tomorrow.

 **-oOo-**

With each step Carol felt like her head would explode. Sasha had given her some pain pills but said it'd be about half an hour before they kicked in. She had awoken in a state of confusion, not sure for a good minute where the hell she was, whose couch she was on but then the night before had come back to her and she smiled. That was until the noise from Rosita made her wish she could turn off all her nerve endings.

She stumbled slowly into the canteen where almost everyone was, everyone but Noah and Rick who were on the roof; Sasha who was in the infirmary; Glenn and Maggie who had already left for their run; and Rosita, Abraham and Eugene, who were all hiding away in their separate units.

"You look like hell," Daryl said looking amused at her.

"Stop speaking so loud," Carol groaned at him. She held her head when June and the kids got up from the table, their plates clattering under their utensils.

"Feeling last night?" Michonne asked as she stood up with Judith. Carol nodded and placed her head on the table. "I'll keep Judith today." Michonne gave Carol a squeeze on her shoulder before leaving the canteen with Carl following.

Carol lifted her head again as she smelled the strong scent of coffee. Gabriel was standing next to her, placing a plate of pancakes before her. She looked at him and found herself smiling as his kind eyes looked her over.

"Did you sleep okay?" Carol nodded. "Maybe some food will help with that hangover."

His voice was low and gentle, almost like a soothing massage on her brain. "Thank you," Carol mouthed and he stared at her a moment longer before leaning over and taking Daryl's dishes and heading back to the kitchen.

Carol could feel the smile spreading on her lips and she was unable to suppress it. Her eyes flicked over to Daryl who stared at her scowling.

"Really Carol?" he said low and accusatory. "The fucking priest? Isn't that a sin or some shit"

"Jealous?" Carol giggled then moaned again as her head rattled. She slowly took a bite of her pancakes. She stole a glance at Gabriel who stood washing the dishes at the sink. She got a tingling feeling remembering the way he had looked last night, his chest bare and firm, as he sat with her. He had brought her the blanket and pillow and after she got settled he continued to massage her feet but they didn't speak again. They just remained in a surprisingly comfortable silence as the candle died out and she had fallen asleep being soothed by what he was doing.

She turned back to see Daryl staring at her with a mix of horror and shock and she burst out laughing. "What?" she said coyly. "I'm not allowed to have sex?"

Daryl balked at her. "I'm gonna beat his ass," he said determinedly.

"Why?" She laughed again.

"I don't like the thought of him pawing all over you," Daryl hissed at her.

"Oh stop. He hasn't pawed all over me. But I wouldn't mind if he did. He's in extremely good shape for a man his age." She stole another glance at Gabriel's back. Daryl made a retching sound, still scowling at the thought of her and Gabriel together. Carol arched an eyebrow at him. "Maybe if you got to pawing someone of your own you wouldn't be so angry with me."

Daryl sat back, his arms folding and looking like a chastised child. "I'm not angry, I'm grossed out," he gave her a wide smile and a wink. "And who the hell am I supposed to be pawing anyway."

Carl leaned forward and batted her eyelashes at him and made a kissy face.

Daryl sighed and rolled his eyes, "I really hate when you do that."

"Do you pookie?" She laughed again as Daryl stood up.

He walked around the table and stood behind her and leaned down, "well, at least you're smiling again." He gave her a quick peck on her cheek and left her alone with Gabriel.

"You know, I could hear you guys," Gabriel said calmly, his back still to her.

Carol took a sip of the strong, bitter coffee, "good."

 **-oOo-**

Jeremiah stopped walking and sat on the doorstep of a house and watched the herd pass him by. He had done pretty well in this town. It had been abandoned in the beginning, when the news alerts were telling people to go into D.C. and take shelter behind the barricades the military had set up. Finding food in the empty houses had been easy. The living he had spied as he walked in the middle of the mass of dead bodies had mostly run, not wanting to fight with the dead, not wanting to risk losing. That was how he was able to stalk them, spy on them, see if they would be good prey.

It had been a long time since he last found prey. And it had been so unsatisfactory.

He had found the small family of three in a cabin in the woods. The perfect family. Father, mother and son. And they had been so willing to help him, to believe he was one of the last good people left. He had lived with them for over a week, becoming a part of the family, taking down the dead, helping them acquire food, spending time with their boy.

It was the mother he wanted. She was young and had a kind of beauty that radiated beneath the weariness survival had beaten into her face. She had a need to believe all hope was not lost, that there was something good waiting at the end of the road. Jeremiah waited patiently for the moment he could show her how completely wrong she was.

That moment had come when the husband decided he could trust Jeremiah alone with his family. He was wrong. Jeremiah had taken care of the boy first and sat in depraved pleasure watching the mother lose her mind at the sight of her precious boy, dead on the floor. It had all been going so well until the husband walked in on them. The fight was one Jeremiah almost thought he would lose. The husband fought with a fury through his tears over the bodies of his wife and child with Jeremiah.

Jeremiah had been stabbed in the leg with the sharp end of the broom handle that had broken in half. He had pulled in out his leg, ignoring the searing pain and plunged it into the husband's chest before taking the other half and slowly pushing it into the man's eye.

The dissatisfaction of that day still bothered Jeremiah. It was like an itch at the centre of his brain and only another kill would satisfy him and killing the dead didn't count.

As Jeremiah sat on the stoop of the abandoned house he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. The few dead that were walking along the street also heard and paused before turning to head toward the sound. If they were thinking creatures they would know the vehicle was heading towards them.

A truck rounded the corner, moving at a moderate pace. The driver, an Asian man, deftly maneuvered around the dead in the street before they were trapped behind a wall of ten or so dead. The vehicle stopped and backed up. The occupants of the truck got out, weapons in hand and began to take down the road block.

Jeremiah didn't stir as he watched. The woman was tough, she never hesitated approaching the oncoming dead and with swift thrusts and hits with her weapon, piercing their skulls or caving them in.

She was strong, beautiful. He could see she found a bit of pleasure in taking on the dead and winning. He cringed when she walked over to the man and kissed him softly before they both got back into the truck and took off as more dead headed their way.

Jeremiah shot up and began to walk after them, going as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself. He would take the man and then he would take her.

 **-oOo-**

"I think we should take the back roads to get there," Rick told Daryl who stood beside him as he leaned over the dining table in his unit with a map spread out over it. "We don't know who all is out there, let's try to avoid places people are likely to be as well as car pileups."

"Yeah okay. What's this place again?"

"Sumner Plantation. According to the brochure I found, it was a historic landmark and large farming plantation."

Daryl picked up the brochure and looked at it. "It ain't got no walls," he mumbled as Rick began to trace out their route on a separate sheet of paper.

"No, but we got a shit load of cement and we can get more." Rick put his pencil down and examined the map he was drawing. "We should leave at first light. Sasha's gonna put some run packs together for us and Gabriel's gonna pack up some food and water."

"So what's the plan?"

"Just check out the place. See if it's covered with walkers or already taken. See how stable it is and if it has good defense points. We go, stay the night if we have to and we come back. If it looks good, maybe we start constructing walls now. Maybe we move in the winter. Haven't decided on all that."

"Two of us are enough?" Daryl flopped down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table.

"Yeah. I prefer to scout in twos. Easier to get away. I'll draw up a map for you too, that way if we get split up we can both still make it back."

Weariness played on Rick's eyes. The defences of this new refuge were going well, being on the hill meant they got very few if any walkers coming their way. Maggie and Glenn were bringing in a lot of food, enough to last them almost until summer and more than enough to feed any new members they may pick up between now and when they were able to harvest new crop.

While it was possible for them to live here for a long time, he knew it wouldn't be enough for the long run. Rick had dreams of land to roam free on, animals grazing. He wanted to build a viable community, a place where people can live without constant fear from the dead or the living. One hundred and fifteen acres seemed like a good start.

Rick jumped at the sound of the door opening, he had been so lost in his thoughts he had even forgotten Daryl was in the room with him. Carl slowly walked in.

"Where's Judith?" Rick asked as his son closed the door and sat at the dining table next to him.

"With Michonne helping June prepare the balconies."

"Did you speak to Abraham?"

Carl glared over at Daryl and Rick had to suppress a laugh. "Not yet. He's gone M.I.A."

Carl was still sore at the lesson Daryl had taught him earlier that day when he had asked Rick if he could join them on their run. Daryl had told him that if things got rough they might need to fight. Carl had insisted he knew how to fight, motioning to the gun he carried. Suddenly Daryl was on Carl, grabbing the boy around his waist, pinning his arms to his to his sides. First he swung Carl to the right, then the left, lifting the boy of the ground. Then Daryl dropped to his knees, carrying Carl down with him and pinning Carl to the ground.

Carl's face had reddened as he struggled futilely with Daryl, unable to defend himself or get any headway with the man.

"Fighting ain't all guns," Daryl had told him. "Sometimes you gotta get in there and use your fist."

"Enough," Rick had shouted. He watched as Carl stood up, his hair standing on end, face red, and eyes glazed like he might cry. "Abraham's been teaching Kyle and Amber a few defensive moves, go find him and ask him to teach you to fight. When we get back, we'll show you some things too."

Now, Rick could see Carl was still angry and embarrassed by what happened earlier. He leaned in close to Carl so only his son could hear what he was saying. "Don't be sore at Daryl." Carl turned his eyes on Rick, hard and stubborn. Rick could almost see the man he would become behind those eyes. His little boy was fading away so quickly and Rick felt a sudden sense of loss at that.

"Look, go find Abraham. Even Michonne is taking lessons on shooting to improve and ain't nothin' weak about that woman. We all need to work on improving our skills." Carl nodded, his mouth tight. "This isn't about your pride Carl, it's about your survival."

Carl stood back up and headed for the door.

"Where you going?"

"To find Abe," the boy mumbled before heading out.

"He pissed off at me?" Daryl asked getting up himself.

"Yeah," Rick let out a deep sigh. "You kinda hurt his pride."

"I'd rather hurt his pride in here than watch him die out there."

"I hear you man.

 **-oOo-**

Daryl walked slowly through the dark hallway, bouncing his water pot against his leg as he went. His day had been exhausting. The fight between Rosita and Abraham. The fight, if that's what you could call it, with Carl. Planning the recon mission he was about to embark on with Rick.

The door to the canteen was already ajar, a light from a lantern glowed from it. He stepped in to find Rosita scooping water with a ladle from one of the large barrels into her water pitcher.

"Hey," he mumbled, placing his pot on one of the dining tables waiting for her to finish.

"Hey yourself," she replied, dipping the ladle back in the barrel.

"You doing okay? After this morning I mean?"

Rosita stopped filling her pitcher and turned to him, eyeing him up and down in a way that made him somewhat uncomfortable. "I'm fine. Abraham and I…," she trailed off and walked closer to him, also placing her pitcher on the table. "It was just fucking in the end."

"For you or for him?"

"For both of us," she glared at him. "You know how that is? Life's too short, might as well get some pleasure from it."

He didn't believe her words. Her reaction wasn't one of a woman losing her fuck buddy. But then again, maybe it was. What did he know? What did he care?

She was eyeing him again, slowly, lingering around his crotch before moving up to his face and he could feel himself tense. He moved to grab his pot and she placed a hand on his arm and stepped closer to him.

"I never realised how good looking you are," Rosita said in a low voice, her finger tracing a line along his arm. "Abraham pulled away from me a while ago and I could use a little something nice tonight."

Daryl stared at her. Was she saying what he thought she was? Would he be willing to take her up on it? She was attractive, really attractive, and apparently ready to be with him if he just said the word. Maybe he'd forget about Sasha inside of Rosita. Maybe he'd find some solace in her arms tonight. Or maybe it'd leave him feeling empty knowing she didn't actually care about him at all and was only using him to get over Abraham.

He was pulled from his musing by the press of her lips on his and instantly he recoiled. Why did he have to be so strange? Wouldn't any other man, any normal man, embrace this situation?

"Don't be so jumpy," Rosita said smiling. "It's just a bit of fun."

Her arm came round and held him by the back of the neck and she pulled him in again, this time darting her tongue out and licking his lips slightly before kissing him again. He didn't respond. Couldn't. He felt like he was being invaded and also he felt used. But he didn't back away.

"Oh," a voice came from the door of the canteen. Daryl looked over and saw Sasha standing there, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He felt as though every organ in his body plummeted inside him. He was frozen as he stared at her, watching the look of shock and hurt form on her face. Then suddenly she was gone.

Daryl could feel his nostrils flare in anger and he grabbed Rosita's hand on his neck and pried it from him. "Don't ever do that again." He grabbed his pot and went to fill it, listening as Rosita left the unit.

 **-oOo-**

Michonne sat in the dark waiting. She was waiting for Rick to come but she had a feeling he would not be coming again tonight like he hadn't come last night. She had a feeling her reluctance to define them was behind it. Why did he need a definition? Why did he need old world norms in this new world they lived in? And why was she so hesitant to do so?

She thought of her conversation with Carol. They spoke about emptiness and the things that filled them up. What made the hole where their lost children resided smaller, making the loss bearable, less painful? What made them want to get up and fight for another day of survival? Where did the bits of joy they snatched up daily to not walk into the wilderness and just let go come from? She knew the answer but couldn't bring herself to admit it fully to herself. Why? What was she afraid of?

Michonne opened one of her remaining chocolates and popped it in her mouth. She ran through her feelings in her head, trying to pinpoint what the issue was, trying to self analyze. What was it she truly wanted?

She got up then and found herself standing outside of Rick's unit. She steadied her nerves and knocked lightly on the door.

He opened looking tired and not completely happy to see her standing before him. "Bad time?" she was deflated by his welcome.

"Nah," he rasped out moving to allow her entry. "Came to tuck me in?" he gave a soft smile that relieved her more than she had anticipated.

He closed the door behind him and stepped towards her, leaning down to give her a kiss. She must have had a fretful look on her face because he placed his hand on her cheek and rubbed the skin lightly with his thumb, "hey, you okay?"

"I love you," Michonne blurted out without thought. She watched Rick's eyes widen and a smile form on his lips. "I love you and I love Carl and I love Judith. You, all of you, fill the empty places inside me. You make this worth doing, worth getting up and fighting for. You didn't come last night and I thought you wouldn't come tonight and I missed you. I'm not traditional but you are and I know you need to put concrete definitions on things, have things declared even if you already know what they are. I know what you want for us Rick and I want it too. I want us to be a family. Not just how all of us are a family, but our own family inside this larger family."

Michonne took a deep breath then. She realised she had been rambling her words out, not giving herself a second to pause, to chicken out. "I was afraid to say it, to feel it. It makes me feel like I don't have control feeling these things for all of you, for wanting the things I want from you. If it becomes real, then the thought of losing it becomes real too. All too real."

He took her hand in his and lifted it to his mouth, kissing it softly. "I love you too Michonne," he said. "We all do." He pushed her hair back and lightly brushed his lips against the nape of her neck sending shivers down her spine. "And I am traditional," he sucked on her neck. "And I do like definitions," he moved to the other side of her neck and sucked there. "I'm antiquated and not modern."

His hand snaked slowly underneath her shirt. He cupped her breast lightly, his fingers tickling the sensitive skin. That was all it took. She was wet and pulsing for him. He lifted up her shirt and kissed along her breasts before sucking one of her erect nipples into his mouth.

She let out a soft sigh and ran her fingers through his hair as he moved to her other nipple, his tongue licking at it as he sucked.

"Take your clothes off," she breathed out. He moved away from her and led her to his bedroom, locking the door behind them.

Her entire body was alive as she watched him disrobe. She took her clothes off and climbed into bed waiting for him to come to her. She began to rub herself and he stood watching her for a moment, his eyes hooded and his jaw slack.

He was so erect as he walked and climbed on top of her. He moved slowly, trailing kissing down her neck to her breasts, taking his time tasting her stomach and inner thighs. Michonne's breath caught and she spread her legs wider.

While still kissing the soft skin of her thigh Rick stroked her gently along her moist center, circling her clit, making her bite back her moans and dig her fingers into his shoulders. His fingers slipped inside her and he brought his mouth down and began to suck at her, flicking his tongue against her swollen bud, making her legs shake with pleasure. He was so good at this, almost too good.

She felt the build up in her, the tightness that always came before the release. She bit her lips and tried not to make too much noise. She shuddered and twitched through her orgasm, sighing contentedly as Rick's tongue slowly licked her until her breathing slowed.

He kissed her back up her body, slowly until he had her lips against his, his tongue in her mouth. He rubbed his erection against her soaking pussy, "tell me you belong to me," he breathed out deeply. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," Michonne husked as he pushed into her. "I'm all yours Rick." Her legs wrapped around him and they moved as one with each thrust he made into her.

 **-oOo-**

 _It's what you deserve_ , Sasha told herself as she sat on her couch trying hard to ignore the lump in her throat. She was trying to wipe the image of Daryl kissing Rosita out of her mind but with each attempt she could see it more clearly. The way she held him by the back of his head, the way their lips touched and moved against each other. The lump in her throat grew larger.

She jumped at the banging against her front door. Three solid knocks came that she had half a mind to ignore.

She opened the door behind which stood Daryl holding a large stock pot with a lid.

"I, uh, I brought you some water. Figured that's what you came to the canteen for. You can return the pot to me later."

Sasha gingerly took the pot from Daryl, her eyes looking everywhere but at him, and nodded her head slightly. "Thank you." She walked over to the kitchen and placed the pot on the counter. Daryl walked in behind her and stood on the other side of the counter.

"About what you saw, with me and Rosita…"

"Its none of my business," she said quietly. She didn't want to hear it, she just wanted him to leave so they could go back to ignoring one another, pretending each other didn't exist.

Daryl licked his lips, he didn't want to lash out at her but he couldn't contain himself. "So you don't care?" His voice was louder than he wanted, harsher too.

"I didn't say I didn't care," Sasha yelled at him. It was so sudden and unexpected that he found himself standing up straight as if she commanded him too. Then she took a deep breath and said evenly through gritted teeth, "I said it was none of my business."

If he stood there much longer she was going to lose it in front of him and she couldn't bear the thought of shedding the tears while he was there.

"You and Rosita…," she tried to think of something positive to say but couldn't.

"There is no me and Rosita," he said softly. "There's Rosita and then there's me." _And you_.

The only response Sasha could give was a slow shrug. She worked her jaw in an effort to keep herself under control but it wasn't working. She blinked a tear free, then another.

"Sasha…," Daryl began.

"Please leave," she managed before the dam burst and her eyes burned. She wiped furiously at them.

Daryl took a step towards her, "Sasha?"

"Go," she shouted. "Now."

"No." He didn't yell. In fact his voice was almost a whisper.

"Please."

Her face was twisted with pain and he couldn't stand to see her that way. A part of him knew it was because of what she saw in the canteen, but he also knew it commingled with the pain she felt since the fall of the prison. The loss she felt that she couldn't let go of, the thing that made her run from him and put an end to what they had started.

"No," he repeated.

 **-oOo-**

Rick squeezed the water from the wash cloth along her body, rinsing the soap away. He had come to love this ritual of theirs, it provided them with another level of intimacy, a show of love.

"I think," he kissed the back of her neck, "when we both get back we should sit Carl down and explain all this to him."

"Sounds like a plan," Michonne turned around and kissed him.

He ran his hands along her waist down to the slope of her hips and squeezed her ass. "It almost feels normal doesn't it?" She looked at him with questioning eyes. "This. Being here, bathing together, making love, becoming a family." His lips met hers and he kissed her deeply.

He wanted this moment to last. He needed it to. He had come the slow realization that not only did he love her, but he needed her. She kept him from slipping too far off the edge, she reined him in when he felt like spiraling into a base brutality. And although his kids survival was the reason he did all that he had, her by his side, fighting along with him for the survival of his family made him feel less insane. The way she had looked at him after biting the throat of that man had told him it was okay to sometimes do what was needed to live. There was no fear from her, no judgement. Like him, she was a part of this world and understood how things sometimes had to go to make it to the next day. But unlike him, she could also take a step back and see the bigger picture and know that you also had to plan for the future.

A knocking came at the bedroom door and the handle turned. "Dad," Carl shouted behind it then more knocking.

"You'll stay here?" Michonne nodded at his request. He figured telling Carl at that moment wouldn't be the best course of action. He walked from the bathroom and opened the bedroom door to his son holding Judith.

"She's looking for you," Carl said handing the baby to him. Judith instantly wrapped her little arms around Rick's neck and burrowed her face against his chest.

"We're leaving out early so I'll put her in your bed before I go," Rick said.

"No problem. Goodnight dad." Carl began to turn away then paused and poked his head slightly through the door. "Goodnight Michonne," he bellowed.

Rick's eyes widened, he felt like a child caught. He stood frozen as he heard Michonne call back, "goodnight." He didn't know what to say to his son at that moment. He wanted to explain but the explanations couldn't come.

"The walls aren't thick and I'm not deaf," the boy offered before turning away and heading back to his room.

Michonne walked slowly out the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her, an abashed look on her face. Judith looked up and reached for her and Michonne took the little girl from Rick.

"I think you should go speak to him," she said.

"Yeah," Rick sighed. He was hoping to work out what he'd say to Carl while out on the road. He would need to improvise and hope he hit the mark. "There's stuff you can wear in that pillowcase over there," he pointed to the corner.

Michonne walked over and peaked in the bag. She pulled out one the negligees and gave him a wry look while shaking her head slowly. "Maybe some other time when Judith isn't here."

Rick ran his hand through his hair and gave her impish smile. "She won't notice what you have on."

"It's not her I'm worried about."

"Touche," Rick said, watching as Michonne put Judith down on the bed and grabbed a t-shirt from one of his drawers and slipped it on over her towel before removing it.

She picked Judith back up and lay on the bed with the little girl against her chest. "You know what you're gonna say?"

Rick took a deep breath and shook his head. "I'll have to come up with something between here and his door."

Rick knocked once before entering Carl's room. The boy lay in bed staring up the ceiling. Placing the candle he held down on the nightstand, Rick sat on the edge of Carl's bed.

"You mad?"

"No. I don't know," Carl answered sitting up. "It's just strange. My dad doing...stuff to my...Michonne."

"I'm not just doing 'stuff' with her," Rick had to suppress a chuckle. "I love her." Carl rolled his eyes and Rick moved to look directly in his face. "Hey, don't do that. I love her. I love her for me and for us. She's…," _beautiful and strong and keeps me grounded and makes me feel safe_. He didn't say all that though, not sure if that would be appropriate to say to his son who was still mourning the loss of his mother so he just shrugged.

"Is that why you gave me this?" Carl held up his hand, displaying Rick's wedding band on his index finger.

"I gave it to you so that you could have something of your mother."

"And because Michonne fits you better than mom did?"

Rick looked down. It was true, Michonne did fit him better but he didn't want to say that to Carl and he also didn't want to deny it.

"Are you mad?"

Carl shook his head. "No. I guess she's a Grimes now huh?"

A small smile graced Rick's mouth, "yeah, she is."

 **-oOo-**

They sat in silence on opposite ends of the couch. The candlelight had burned out a while ago and they were in darkness.

"You gonna tell me what's going on?" Daryl lit another cigarette. When she accepted he wasn't going to leave, Sasha had given him a mug to use as an ashtray and he had slowly filled it while she kept her back turned to him. He knew she had been crying but didn't say or do anything, he simply allowed her to empty out in peace. But now she was done, had been for a while.

"You look like you haven't been sleeping," he spoke again when she had said nothing.

"I don't sleep much," she offered. "Too many nightmares."

"About what?"

"About the dead. About Tyreese." In the dark, alone with him she felt she could let it out. She couldn't see the look on his face, she couldn't even tell if he had turned his head to face her. "They call to me, tell me to join them. Then they come and get me."

The couch shifted as Daryl got up and sat back down next to her. Sasha sucked in her breath as he took one of her hands in his and squeezed. "Do you want to join them?"

"No," her voice sounded hoarse. "But sometimes I think if I keep having these dreams, I might listen to them."

"That why you got that bed set up on the balcony? You think if you sleep somewhere else you'll have different dreams?"

"No. It was really hot last night."

Daryl smiled at that. It had been hot, so hot he slept in the garden on one of the lawn chairs and woke up early, shivering and covered in morning dew. He had watched the sky all night, keeping a keen eye out for any satellites. He could feel her hand gripping his and he ran his thumb along the top of hers. He tried to see her in the dark and wished she'd light another candle. He wondered how she'd feel if he tried to embrace her or kiss her. How would she feel if he admitted that nothing had changed in his feeling for her and how much he missed her.

"Are you still afraid of good things happening to you Sasha?"

She didn't say anything. She wasn't sure what she was anymore. Afraid, alone, angry? Ill at ease?

"You're like the man who washes his hands sixty times a day," Daryl said after a moment. "You think the world will explode if you don't. Except, the world's gonna do what it's gonna do no matter if you wash your hands or not."

He was right, she knew, but she couldn't shake the feeling. Life had always been full of ups and downs, but now the downs equalled death and the ups were so easily forgotten.

They went silent again and Daryl smoked another cigarette. It was getting late and he needed to get to bed soon to be ready for his run with Rick but he didn't want to leave.

Sasha shifted in her seat and found herself moving to lean against him. He didn't move a muscle as her head rested against his chest and she welcomed the feel of his arms circling her, rubbing her back gently. She needed this right now, to feel connected to someone she knew cared. If it was selfish of her, she didn't care at that moment. He felt like...home.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes." Sasha could feel his heart begin to thud beneath her head. She stood up, "I'll bring you a pillow."

When she walked from the room he lay on the sofa. She came back and handed him the pillow and sat at his feet, slightly curled up. She didn't want to go to her room to lay alone in her bed waiting for the nightmares to come.

Daryl moved over on the couch, making some space next to him. "Come here," he said, raising his arm to allow her to lay next to him. To his surprise she did, placing her head on his chest and her leg over his legs.

"Just for tonight," she said wrapping her arm around him.

"Just for tonight."


End file.
